“Good Lord!” gasped Dickey, despairingly.

“It is all over,” said Quentin, his face rigid.

“What will they do?” demanded Dorothy, panic-stricken.

“I do not understand your agitation, good friends,” said the priest, in mild surprise.  “Have I done wrong in telling them you are here?  Who are they?  Are they enemies?”

“They are searching for me, Father Bivot,” said Dorothy, resignedly.

“For you, my child?” in wonder.

“They want to take me back to Brussels, You would not understand, Father, if I told you the story, but I do not want them to find me here.”

A frightened servant threw open the door unceremoniously at this juncture and controlling his excitement with moderate success, announced that a crowd of men were at the gates, demanding admission.

“My God, Bob, this will ruin you and Lady Saxondale!” groaned Quentin.  “What can we do?  Escape by the underground passage?”

Lord Saxondale was the coolest one in the party.  He squared his shoulders, sniffed the air belligerently, and said he would take the matter in his own hands.

“Frances, will you take Miss Garrison upstairs with you?  And Jane, I suspect you would better go, too The secret passage is not to be considered.  If we attempt to leave the place, after the information Father Bivot has given them, it will be a clean admission of guilt.  We will face them down.  They can’t search the castle without my permission, and they can’t trespass here a minute longer than I desire.  Do you care to see the prince, Quentin?”

“See him?  It is my duty and not yours to meet him.  It means nothing to me and it means disgrace to you, Bob, Let me talk to—­”

“If you intend to act like an ass, Phil, you shan’t talk to him.  I am in control here, and I alone can treat with him and the officers.”

“Please, sir, they are becoming very angry, and say they will break down the gates in the name of the law,” said the servant, reentering hurriedly.

“I will go out and talk to them about the law,” said Saxondale, grimly.  “Don’t be alarmed, Miss Garrison.  We’ll take care of you.  Gad, you look as if you want to faint!  Get her upstairs, Frances.”

“I must speak with you, Lord Saxondale,” cried Dorothy, clutching his arm and drawing him apart from the pale-faced group.  Eagerly she whispered in his ear, stamping her foot in reply to his blank objections.  In the end she grasped both his shoulders and looked up into his astonished eyes determinedly, holding him firmly until he nodded his head gravely.  Then she ran across the room to the two ladies and the bewildered priest, crying to the latter: 

“You must come upstairs and out of danger, Father.  We have no time to lose.  Good luck to you, Lord Saxondale!” and she turned an excited face to the three men who stood near the door.

“He shall not have you, Dorothy,” cried Quentin.  “He must kill me first.”