At first Nigel, though greatly startled, imagined that this performance was merely the climax of the ceremony. He found the whole business extremely unpleasant but was nevertheless interested. Perhaps a minute passed before he realised that the woman’s collapse was not anticipated by the congregation or by Father Jasper Garnette himself. A young man in the group of Initiates gave the first indication. He rose from his knees and stood looking from the woman to the priest. He spoke, but so quietly that Nigel could not hear what he said. The rest of the circle remained kneeling, but rather as though they had forgotten to rise or were stricken into immobility. The ecstatic fervour of the ceremony had quite vanished and something infinitely more disquieting had taken its place. The priest spoke. Perhaps because he had heard the words so often that evening, Nigel heard them then.

“Spiritual ecstasy— ”He pronounced this word “ecsta-sah.”

“Manifestation…”

The Initiate hesitated and looked fixedly at the prostrate figure.

“My friends,” said the priest loudly, with an air of decision. “My friends, our beloved sister has been vouchsafed the greatest boon of all. She is in ecstasy. Let us leave her to her tremendous experience. Let us sing our hymn to Pan, the God-in-all.”

He stopped. The organ uttered a tentative growl. The congregation, murmuring and uneasy, got to its feet.

“Let us sing,” repeated Jasper Garnette with determination, “the hymn—”

A scream rang out. The little dowdy woman had broken away from the circle and stood with her head thrust forward and her mouth wide open.

“It’s not. It’s not. She’s dead. I touched her. She’s dead!”