” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. She made an abrupt personal appeal. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. He was in a position to help her.
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