"Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. I went at last when I had barely a shilling in my purse to a dramatic agent. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. Besides the table close by loaded with books, there was a central table with upright chairs around, covered in a multitude of papers, inks and quills, and assorted unrelated items such as playing cards. A town called Foster. That’s why I chucked Manning. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss.
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