’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. ” Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. "I forgive him his disobedience. Sepulchre's church. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard.
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