At length they ceased, and with a sigh he pressed the violin once, twice, thrice to his lips.
"My good Stradivarius," he said, "my peerless one!" Once again he kissed it, and then, drawing his hand across his eyes, he slowly wrapped the violin in a velvet cloth, put it away in an iron box, and locked it up.
But presently he changed his mind, took it out again, and put it on the table, shaking his head musingly.
"He will wish to see it, maybe to hear it," he said half aloud.
Then he turned and went into another room.

Here there was a prie-dieu in a corner, and above it a crucifix.

He knelt and was soon absorbed.
For a time there was silence.

At last there was a crunching of moccasined feet upon the crisp snow, then a slight tap at the outer door, and immediately it was opened.

A stalwart young man stepped inside.