be going it was certainly somewhere. They were engineers building a bridge
to an unknown land, just as methodically and purposefully as the builders of
an earthly bridge. There was no doubt as to the validity of their knowledge or
their powers. She perceived that Lord Antony Bowling had spent his life in
the investigation of disjointed, purposeless items of mostly plain fraud; while
under his very nose the Brethren of this Order were proceeding calmly with
some stupendous task, not troubling even to acquaint the world with their
results. And she could dimly guess why this was so, and must be so. They did
not wish to be dragged into foolish controversies with the ignorant.
And just then Simon Iff took up the conversation with a remark in tune
with that thought.
"We shall not ask you for any pledge of secrecy, he said, "for you have
only to say what you see and hear to be laughed at for a liar. If this be our last
meeting, we are quits. You will be taken to a little chapel leading from this
room. There you will find a circle, which you must enter, being careful not to
touch it, even with your dress; for that would be dangerous. Within that circle
you must remain until we send for you, unless you wish to leave, in [92]
which case you have only to pass through the white curtains in the north. You
will find yourself in a lighted passage; open the dooor at the end, you will be
in the street, where my automobile awaits your orders. Your use of this exit
will, however, close your career in magick; in any future relations we should
merely be good friends — or I hope so — but we should not consider any
proposal to reconstruct the present situation."
"I will wait until you send for me," cried Lisa. "I swear it."
Simon Iff placed his hand upon her brow; in another instant he was gone
from the room.
Sister Cybele rose and took her by the hand. "Come!" said she; "but you
had better bid farewell to your lover." The girl once again thrilled to the
undertone of malice in the voice. But Cyril took her fondly in his arms, and
crushed her to him.
"To-morrow," he said, "brave heart, true heart! To-morrow we shall be
alone together!"
Trembling, la Giuffria returned to Sister Cybele, and followed her to the
door of the chapel. She threw a last look over her shoulder: to her amazement
Cyril was regarding her with a cynical smile of amusement. Her heart went
deadly cold; she felt the pull of Sister Cybele's hand, suddenly grown iron
and inexorable. The door shut behind her with a monstrous clang; and she