Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. ‘Yes, that is reasonable. Before Marthe will become impatient and come out. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible.
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