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Tom Sheppard was always a close file, and would never tell whom he married. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.

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