such, that to see her face he had to turn his head; but her delicate
hands rested on the arm of his chair, clasped now, and again twisted
with anguish, and then stretched out with upward palms appealing for
pity, or drooping in despair. She could see his profile, and watch the
growing uneasiness, the shame of innocence brought face to face with
dirt unspeakable, the mortal terror of a pure boy in the presence of
Phryne. With this sport Sister Claire had been long familiar.

Her caressing voice and deep sorrow stripped the tale of half its
vileness. At times her voice fell to a breath. Then she bent towards him
humbly, and a perfume swept over him like a breeze from the tropics. The
tale turned him to stone. Sister Claire undoubtedly drew upon her
imagination and her reading for the facts, since it rarely falls to the
lot of one woman to sound all the depths of depravity. Louis had little
nonsense in his character. At first his horror urged him to fly from the
place, but whenever the tale aroused this feeling in him, the cunning
creature broke forth into a strain of penitence so sweet and touching
that he had not the heart to desert her. At the last she fell upon her
knees and buried her face in his lap, crying out:

"If you do not hate me now ... after all this ... then take pity on me."

* * * * *

Arthur sauntered into the hall outside the office of Sister Claire about
half-past four. He had forgotten the momentous interview which bid so
fair to end in the conversion of the escaped nun; also his declaration
to be within hailing distance in case of necessity. In a lucky moment,
however, the thought of Sister Mary Magdalen and her rainbow enterprise,
so foolish, so incredible, came to his mind, and sent him in haste to
the rescue of his friend. Had Louis kept his engagement and received the
vows and the confession of the audacious tool of Livingstone? No sound
came from the office. It would hardly do for him to make inquiry.

He observed that Sister Claire's office formed a suite of three rooms.
The door of the first looked like the main entrance. It had the
appearance of use, and within he heard the cough of the solemn
office-boy. A faint murmur came from the second room. This must be the
private sanctum of the spider; this murmur might be the spider's
enchantment over the fly. What should the third room be? The trap? He
turned the knob and entered swiftly and silently, much to the