Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. Well, he was executed for murder. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. Almost had Martha won out. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage.
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