The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. " "Knock him on the head," thundered Sir Cecil, "or we shall have the watch upon us.
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