“In that laboratory one gets to disregard these passions,” began Capes. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. Spurling's sooty imp, Caliban. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly.
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