He advanced, holding his open note-book and pencil, and having saluted us with a stiff bow and an old-fashioned flourish of his hat, shook hands rheumatically and waited for us to speak.

Quite alone now, for it was closing time, Mother Bonneton had shuffled off rheumatically after a cutting wordshe knew better than to ask what had happenedand the old sacristan, lantern in hand and Caesar before him, was making his round of the galleries, securing doors and windows.