His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. The door was opened, and Austin entered the cell, when he absolutely recoiled before the spectacle he beheld, and could scarcely have looked more alarmed if the prison had tumbled about his ears. Sheppard returned no answer. ” He stalked around the room. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. “Now step aside, I have some business to attend to.
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