The little yellow flame illuminated the glass-covered aperture in the floor and threw into such weird relief the lineaments of Miss Gault as to almost divest them of their humanity. Only a dim consciousness of this astounding countenance, so near his own, reached Wolf’s mind just then. He was too excited. But afterwards, when he recalled the whole incident, it came back distinctly upon him as one of those glimpses into something abominable, ghastly, in Nature’s pranks, such as a person were wise to make note of, with the rest, as he went through the world! Here, in the mere possibility of such a vision⁠—for, to say the truth, Miss Gault’s face by that match-flare was rendered nothing less than bestial ⁠—was an experience to be set against those chance-heard organ-notes that had mounted up so triumphantly among the torn battle-flags.