haunter within would not be forgotten, and, as if at a sudden
recollection, he dropped his eyes in a troubled way, and moved
onwards brooding. In those brief intervals of peace his countenance
expressed an absorbing reverence, a profound humility. The same was
evident in his bearing; he walked as softly as possible and avoided
treading upon a sculptured name.

When he passed out into the sunny street, he stood for an instant
with a hand veiling his eyes, as if the sudden light were too
strong. Then he looked hither and thither with absent gaze, and at
length bent his steps in the direction of Westminster Bridge. On the
south side of the river he descended the stairs to the Albert
Embankment and walked along by St. Thomas's Hospital.

Presently he overtook a man who was reading as he walked, a second
book being held under his arm. It was a young workman of three- or
four-and-twenty, tall, of wiry frame, square-shouldered, upright.
Grail grasped his shoulder in a friendly way, asking:

'What now?'

'Well, it's tempted eighteenpence out of my pocket,' was the other's
reply, as he gave the volume to be examined. 'I've wanted a book on
electricity for some time.'

He spoke with a slight North of England accent. His name was Luke
Ackroyd; he had come to London as a lad, and was now a work-fellow
of Grail's. There was rough comeliness in his face and plenty of
intelligence, something at the same time not quite satisfactory if
one looked for strength of character; he smiled readily and had eyes