She slipped into the pew designated and knelt for a moment in silent prayer before taking her seat. Her mind was filled with unrest but the quiet and solemn peace which pervaded the atmosphere was like balm upon her troubled spirit and insensibly she relaxed beneath its gentle influence.
The vaulted arches high above, shadowy and vague in the half-light, rang with the clear, swelling notes of the white-robed choir which she could glimpse above the sea of heads before her; and when their echo had died away, the sonorous well-rounded tones from the pulpit fell with soothing monotony upon her ear, lulling her to a temporary forgetfulness of her errand.
Not for long, however. A late comer, a woman, was ushered into the pew beside her and Betty's drugged senses awoke to instant alertness. She had been given no hint as to what manner of person would keep the strange appointment with her and no one could so unobtrusively pass an envelope to her as an occupant of the same pew.
She darted a furtive glance at her unknown companion, but could form no conclusion. The woman was of middle-age, neatly but plainly dressed in contrast with the brilliant assemblage about her, and her comely serene face bore no indication of one engaged upon a secret mission.
The seat behind Betty was occupied by a governess and three restive children; that before her contained two elderly ladies, an anæmic youth and a bent old man, his white head nodding above a gold-topped cane. Surely none of these could have entered the church with an ulterior motive.
Betty had been placed so that the left side of her face was turned to the aisle and the birthmark prominently visible. She realized that this must have been planned to proclaim her identity, but the woman seated beside her politely ignored her existence and as the lengthy sermon drew to a close, the girl was forced to conclude that the unknown associate in the transaction would approach her on the way out.
A hymn, a prayer, and then from the pulpit the familiar: "Let your light so shine before men—" proclaimed the collection. The opening notes of the offertory sounded from the choir and Betty abstracted some money from her purse and idly watched the approach of the smug-faced rotund little man who minced down the aisle, pausing at each pew to extend apologetically his felt-lined silver salver.
She heard the rustle of banknotes and clink of coins as he drew nearer, and when he had reached the pew immediately in front of her, Betty saw that the salver was heaped high with offerings.
The bearer paused over long and she glanced up to find that his small pouched eyes were fixed as though fascinated upon her face. A swift forewarning of the truth darted across her mind, even before she observed that with surprising dexterity he had whipped from his pocket of his frock coat an envelope which he laid upon the pile of currency.
Two short strides brought him to her side and he thrust the salver nervously before her. She had no need to glance again into his face to confirm her thought for upon the envelope had been scrawled an odd, fantastic mark, meaningless to others but of unmistakable significance to her. It was the outline of an irregular formless blotch with five curving tentacles reaching out from it; a crudely sketched representation of the scar upon her cheek!