Again the saintly element was near being thrown aside by the worldly in the old man's breast.

Alice lying there seemed mutely demanding that he avenge her.

A riotous something in his blood clamored for a quick and certain act in this drama by moonlight--a tragic close by a stroke of terrible yet perfectly fitting justice.
There was but the space of a breath for the conflict in the priest's heart, yet during that little time he reasoned the case and quoted scripture to himself.
"Domine, percutimus in gladio ?" rang through his mind.

"Lord, shall we smite with the sword ?" Hamilton seemed to make answer to this with a dazzling display of skill.

The rapiers sang a strange song above the sleeping girl, a lullaby with coruscations of death in every keen note.
Father Beret was thinking of Alice.