"There," she said.
"Is the priest inside?"
"Yes." And then, with a new idea: "Cousin Adolf," she whispered, "if you go along there back of the choir and down a little stairway, you will come to the treasure room. It might interest you."
He looked at her in frank amusement. "I'm interested already. I'll get along very nicely here. Now go ahead and get through with it."
The girl glanced about her with a helpless gesture, and then, sighing resignedly, she entered the confessional. Groener seated himself on one of the little chairs and leaned back with a satisfied chuckle. He was so near the confessional that he could hear a faint murmur of voices—Alice's sweet tones and then the priest's low questions.
Five minutes passed, ten minutes! Groener looked at his watch impatiently. He heard footsteps on the stone of the choir, and, glancing up, saw Matthieu polishing the carved stalls. Some ladies passed with a guide who was showing them the church. Groener rose and paced back and forth nervously. What a time the girl was taking! Then the door of the confessional box opened and a black-robed priest came out and moved solemnly away. Enfin! It was over! And with a feeling of relief Groener watched the priest as he disappeared in the passage leading to the sacristy.
Still Alice lingered, saying a last prayer, no doubt. But the hour was advancing. Groener looked at his watch again. Twenty minutes past three! She had been in that box over half an hour. It was ridiculous, unreasonable. Besides, the priest was gone; her confession was finished. She must come out.
"Alice!" he called in a low tone, standing near the penitent's curtain.
There was no answer.
Then he knocked sharply on the woodwork: "Alice, what are you doing?"