She drew a long breath. She must get to the vestry. Time enough for Gosse to shut her mouth forever, as he did not hesitate to point out to her. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. The halls are on the lookout for something new. She had not even endorsed it. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. . ’ ‘Melusine!’ came sharply from the doorway. “I’ll be hanged if I do.
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