" "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. ‘Aye, miss, like a shadow. Sheppard, who seemed to be crouching upon the floor.
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