Suddenly it seemed completely night. The colours of the old vestments
still glowed in the dusk, like smouldering coals in a dying fire; but that
was because of the rich tints, and because the eyes gazing at them were
accustomed to darkness. Looking up at Nick to see what his silence meant,
and whether he were nonplussed or merely deciding on a plan of action,
Angela could hardly make out his features. She could see clearly only his
eyes, luminous and gray.
"What shall we do?" she asked. Her voice sounded appealing, like that of a
child.
"Don't worry, Mrs. May," said Nick, with sudden cheerfulness. "We'll get
out all right. I was just studying what must have happened. That's why I
was so mum. I reckon the Padre must have been away--though why he left the
key in the door beats me--and coming back he locked up for the night.
Unless he went around in the direction of the auto he wouldn't have seen
it. If he looked in here, of course he'd have thought the church empty,
we being in the gallery. And it's late in the day now, so late he wouldn't
expect visitors."
"It's so 'late in the day' that it's night!" cried Angela. "Another reason
for his not seeing the motor."
"Not quite night yet! And I'm going down to make all the noise I can at
the door, assisted by Billy.
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