But though both men felt a dim premonition of what his words might possibly convey, neither could bring himself to a deliberate question. Nor did Llwellyn appear to invite it. During the whole of their talk he had sedulously avoided any religious questions. He had dealt solely with historical aspects. His position in the religious world was singular. His knowledge of Biblical history was one of its assets, but he was not known definitely as a believer. His attitude had always been absolutely non-committal. He did the work he had to do without taking sides. It had become generally understood that no definite statement of his own personal convictions was to be asked or expected from him. The general consensus of opinion was that Sir Robert Llwellyn was _not_ a believer in the divinity of Christ; but it was merely an opinion, and had never been confirmed by him. There was rather a tense silence for a short time. The Professor broke it. "Let me show you," he said, taking a gold pencil-case from his pocket, "a little map which I published at the time of the agitation about Gordon's Tomb. I can trace the course of the city walls for you." He felt in his pocket for some paper on which to make the drawing, and took out a letter. Gortre and the vicar drew their chairs closer. Suddenly a curious pain shot through Basil's head and all his pulses throbbed violently. He experienced a terribly familiar sensation--the sick fear and repulsion of the night before his illness in the great library. The aroma of some utterly evil and abominable personality seemed to come into his brain. For, as he had looked down at the paper on which the great white fingers were now tracing thin lines, he had seen, before Llwellyn turned it over, a firm, plain signature, thus: Constantine Schuabe With some excuse about the heat of the room, he left it and went out into the night. His brain was busy with terrible intuitive forebodings, he seemed to be caught up in the fringe of some great net, the phantoms of his illness came round him once more, the dark air was thick with their wings--vague, and because of that more hideous. He passed the lighted _kiosk_ at the Casino entrance with a white, set face. He was going home to pray. CHAPTER IX INAUGURATION It was at Victoria Station that Basil said good-bye to Helena. Spence had been back again in London for a fortnight. Mr. Byars and his daughter were to go straight back to Manchester the same day, and Gortre was to take possession of his new quarters in Lincoln's Inn and enter on his duties at St. Mary's without delay.