He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. “And if I were you I would keep away from the fire. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold.
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