“Sic transit gloria mundi,” he said sorrowfully. And then he stopped.
“Glory be to God!” he ejaculated, and stood staring at the débris before him.
It was some seconds before his brain began to take in the possible significance of what he saw, and even when the significance dawned on him, it is certain that he did not grasp its probable magnitude.
“Glory be to God!” he ejaculated again, and bent towards the ground.
Two minutes later he was trotting, with vastly more haste than dignity, once more in the direction of the Castle, a small iron box tightly tucked under his arm.
CHAPTER L
A MIRACLE
“’Tis a miracle! ’Tis nothing but a miracle!” cried Father Maloney, for perhaps the fiftieth time.
He stared at the yellow parchment upon the table in front of him. It was real, it was tangible. He could touch it, finger it, even read the crabbed writing upon it; and yet, for the life of him, he could hardly bring his brain to believe that he was not dreaming.
“To think,” he ejaculated, “that it has lain there under our very noses, so to speak, and us wondering and worrying all these weeks. Well, well!”
Lady Mary looked silently at the yellow parchment. Words, so far, had failed her. The bigness of the thing, gripping her, had held her silent.