his modest luggage inside--and there was ample
room to do this, for he was the only passenger--plunged his feet into
the straw which covered the floor, and endured for ten minutes such a
shaking and rattling as only an omnibus moving over cobble-stones can
produce.

With the plans of Cullerne Minster Mr Westray was thoroughly familiar,
but the reality was as yet unknown to him; and when the omnibus lumbered
into the market-place, he could not suppress an exclamation as he first
caught sight of the great church of Saint Sepulchre shutting in the
whole south side of the square. The drenching rain had cleared the
streets of passengers, and save for some peeping-Toms who looked over
the low green blinds as the omnibus passed, the place might indeed have
been waiting for Lady Godiva's progress, all was so deserted.

The heavy sheets of rain in the air, the misty water-dust raised by the
drops as they struck the roofs, and the vapour steaming from the earth,
drew over everything a veil invisible yet visible, which softened
outlines like the gauze curtain in a theatre. Through it loomed the
Minster, larger and far more mysteriously impressive than Westray had in
any moods imagined. A moment later the omnibus drew up before an iron
gate, from which a flagged pathway led through the churchyard to the
north porch.

The conductor opened the carriage-door.

"This is the church, sir," he said, somewhat superfluously. "If you get
out here, I will drive your bag to the hotel."

Westray fixed his hat firmly on his head, turned up the collar of his
coat, and made a dash through the rain for the door. Deep puddles had
formed in the worn places of the gravestones that paved the alley, and
he splashed himself in his hurry before he reached the shelter of the
porch. He pulled aside the hanging leather mattress that covered a
wicket in the great door, and found himself inside the church.

It was not yet four o'clock, but the day was so overcast that dusk was
already falling in the building. A little group of men who had been
talking in the choir turned round at the sound of the opening door, and
made towards the architect. The protagonist was a clergyman past middle
age, who wore a stock, and stepped forward to greet the young architect.

"Sir George Farquhar's assistant, I presume. One of Sir George
Farquhar's assistants I should perhaps say, for no doubt Sir George has
more than one assistant in carrying out his many and va