" "Ah. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. " "Oh! certainly," answered Griffin; "certainly. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet.
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