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MEREDITH had found himself standing between walls. He stepped forward a pace or two, and the wall on his left fell away. There was just light enough to see that he was beside the altar. The hole he had emerged from was roofed by the altar stone. And there beyond the rails sat Pamela Thring. He had only to go to her, to speak to her from where he stood. But he could not speak. The atmosphere of the chapel, the altar on his left, the pale light filtering through windows, had numbed him as if he was staggering under a physical blow. For through the mist of his lost memory a shaft of burning light had flashed. He was standing in the place where he had stood before, and in the place of Pamela was another human creature, heavy and coarse and rude; and something had happened? What was it?
He
