Manchurian Books

The window glittered like a sheet of gems.
"What wonderful glass," involuntarily said St. George.
"Is it not?" Miss Holland said enthusiastically. "My father sent it.
He sent nearly all these things from abroad."
"I wonder where such glass is made," observed St. George; "it is
like lace and precious stones--hardly more painted than carved."
She bent upon him such a sudden, searching look that St. George felt
his eyes held by her own.
"Do you know anything of my father?" she demanded suddenly.
"Only that Mrs. Hastings has just told me that he is abroad--in the
South Atlantic," St. George wonderingly replied.
"Why, I am very foolish," said Miss Holland quickly, "we have not
heard from him in ten months now, and I am frightfully worried. Ah
yes, the glass is beautiful. It was made in one of the South
Atlantic islands, I believe--so were all these things," she added;
"the same figure of the crucified sphinx is on many of them."
"Do you know what it means?" he asked.
"It is the symbol used by the people in one of the islands, my
father said," she answered.


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