But I did hear, at the Priory, a strange rumour"----
"Rumours are rarely worth regarding or repeating, Brother Philip."
"True, my lord. Yet having so lately aided her to ride upon Icon"----
"'Her'? With whom then is rumour making free? And what saith this
Priory rumour concerning 'her'?"
"They say the old lay-sister, Mary Antony, hath fled the Convent."
"Mary Antony!" exclaimed the Bishop, and his voice held the most
extraordinary combination of amazement, relief, and incredulity. "But,
in heaven's name, good brother, wherefore should the old lay-sister
leave the Convent?"
"They say she was making her way into the city in search of you, my
lord; but she hath not reached the Palace."
"Any other rumour, Philip?"
"Nay, my lord, none; save that the Prioress is distraught with anxiety
concerning the aged nun, and has commanded that the underground way to
the Cathedral crypt be searched; though, indeed, the porteress
confesses to having let Sister Mary Antony out at the gate."
"Rumour again," said the Bishop, "and not a word of truth in it, I
warrant. Deny it, right and left, my good Philip; and say, on my
authority, that the Reverend Mother hath most certainly not caused the
crypt way to be searched. I would I could lay hands on the originator
of these foolish tales."
The Bishop spoke with apparent vexation, but his heart had bounded in
the upspring of a great relief. Was he after all in time to save with
outstretched hand that most priceless crystal bowl?
The Bishop dismounted outside the Convent gate.
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