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the string, brought up the rear. In this order they proceeded through
the garden, under the thick darkness of the night and the scattering
snow, and drew near to the dimly-illuminated windows of the abbey church.
At the western portal a picket of archers stood, taking what shelter they
could find in the hollow of the arched doorways, and all powdered with
the snow; and it was not until Dick's conductors had exchanged a word
with these, that they were suffered to pass forth and enter the nave of
the sacred edifice.
The church was doubtfully lighted by the tapers upon the great altar, and
by a lamp or two that swung from the arched roof before the private
chapels of illustrious families. In the midst of the choir the dead spy
lay, his limbs piously composed, upon a bier.
A hurried mutter of prayer sounded along the arches; cowled figures knelt
in the stalls of the choir, and on the steps of the high altar a priest
in pontifical vestments celebrated mass.
Upon this fresh entrance, one of the cowled figures arose, and, coming
down the steps which elevated the level of the choir above that of the
nave, demanded from the leader of the four men what business brought him
to the church. Out of respect for the service and the dead, they spoke
in guarded tones; but the echoes of that huge, empty building caught up
their words, and hollowly repeated and repeated them along the aisles.
"A monk!" returned Sir Oliver (for he it was), when he had heard the
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