the Sanctuary was the humble member of the congregation whose
duty it was to wait upon the Prophet.

As she passed slowly and automatically up the aisle, the man turned and
looked at her; but after a cursory glance returned to his task of
setting the Sanctuary in order.

The look and the evident unconcern chilled and daunted her anew. With a
movement of despair she paused, and sank into one of the empty chairs.

For a space that seemed eternal, she sat huddled in her seat--her hands
clasped nervously in her lap; her ears alert to catch the slightest
sound; her eyes unconsciously following the movements of the man within
the Sanctuary; then, suddenly and abruptly, the tension snapped; and
action--action of some description--became imperative. 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. With
a new resolve, she looked him straight in the eyes.

"You can do me a great service--a very great service," she said,
quietly, in her soft, clear voice.

The man looked at