And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. “Well,” she said. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. Pitt, pointing to the prisoner. . ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune.
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