The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. ‘I knew I should find you still here. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. Then she sang. . Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved.
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