So that evening found Larose among the small congregation assembled in the cathedral. The majesty of the old building impressed him and, though a pronounced sceptic, he could not help being awed by its beauty and solemnity. It was only partially lighted up and the soft notes of the organ were echoed back from the shadows all around.
The Dean's voice was all he had been told it would be and his tones, tinged with a gentle melancholy, seemed most appropriate to their surroundings.
The service over, Larose having made up his mind what he would do, followed after the Dean the bare hundred yards to his house, overtaking him just as he was taking out his latchkey to open his front door.
“Good evening, sir,” he said. “Do you remember me?”
“Certainly,” nodded the Dean. He smiled gravely. “Have
