She rose from her seat.
After she had risen, she stood aimlessly looking about her at the black-and-white walls, at the rows of chairs, at the gleaming octagonal symbol that hung from the roof; then, as if magnetically attracted, her glance travelled back to the man inside the Sanctuary rail.
There was nothing remarkable in the spare figure, moving reverently from one sacred object to another; but as her eyes rested on the colorless, ascetic face, her own cheeks flushed with a new hope--a new inspiration.
With a quick movement she glanced furtively behind her; and, stepping carefully between the chairs, regained the aisle and moved swiftly and noiselessly up the chapel.
Her heart was beating so fast, the nervous strain was so intense, that when she reached the railing she stood for a moment unable to command her voice.

And when the Mystic--becoming suddenly aware of her near presence--turned and confronted her, a faint sound of nervous alarm slipped from her.
For a space the two looked at each other; and at last the man appeared to realize that something was expected of him.

Bending his head, he uttered the formula of the sect.
"In what can I serve you ?" The familiar words braced Enid.

She glanced at him afresh, and in that glance her plan of action arranged itself.

For one moment, as she had walked up the aisle, her hand had sought her purse, but now, as she scanned the ascetic face of this unworldly servant, her fingers involuntarily loosened and the purse slipped back into her pocket.