"Take this," he said, "and when the thing is done, I'll give you twenty more of the same. Harris will give them to you from me. And now, for God's sake, get out of my sight!"
The last words burst from him in a high, almost feminine note, and as the two men shuffled away into the fog of the empty foyer, the fat, white hand of the Jew went up to his throat, clutching at it in sick hysteria.
"In the name of God, get out of my sight!"
Was there ever a more blasphemous parody and mockery than this? He who taketh the name of the Lord God in vain—
CHAPTER XVIII
REVEALED IN A VISION
Mary Lys stood in the great hall of the East End Hospital, where she had worked for three years. She was saying good-bye.
A little group of men and women stood round her—the men mostly young, clean-shaven, alert, and capable in expression; the women in the uniform of hospital nurses.
Some of the women were crying quietly, and the great visiting surgeon, Sir Abraham Jones himself, alternately tugged at his grey, pointed beard or polished the glasses of his pince-nez.