Clinging to the Missioner's shoulder, shimmering like a polished silken thread in the lampglow, was a long, shining hair--a woman's hair.

With an effort David choked back the word of amazement in his throat, and began turning over the pages of a book.
And then suddenly, the Missioner saw that silken thread.

David heard his quick breath.

He saw, without raising his eyes, the slow, almost stealthy movement of his companion's fingers as he plucked the hair from his arm and shoulder, and when David looked up the hair was gone, and one of Father Roland's hands was closed tightly, so tightly that the veins stood out on it.

He rose from the table, and again went into the room beyond the locked door.