“Too late?” Nigel felt ridiculously exasperated and disappointed.

“Yes. The bell has stopped. I have just locked the doors.”

“But only this second. I saw you do it as I lowered my umbrella. Couldn’t you open them again?”

“The bell has stopped.”

“I can hear that very well. That, too, has only just occurred. Could not you let me in?”

“I see you do not know our rules,” said the young man, and pointed to a framed notice which hung beside the doors. Nigel turned peevishly and read the sentence indicated by the young man: “The bell ceases ringing as the Priest enters the temple. The doors are then locked and will not be re-opened until the ceremony is ended.”

“There, you see,” said the young man complacently.

“Yes, I see. But if you will allow me to say so, I consider that you make a mistake in so stringently enforcing this rule. As you have noticed I am a new-comer. Something prompted me to come — an impulse. Who knows but what I might have proved an enthusiastic convert to whatever doctrine is taught behind your locked doors?”

“There is a Neophytes’ Class at six-fifteen on Wednesdays.”

“I shall not attend it,” cried Nigel in a rage.

“That is as you please.”

Nigel perceived very clearly that he had made a fool of himself. He could not understand why he felt so disproportionately put out at being refused entrance to a ceremony of which he knew nothing and, he told himself, cared less. However he was already a little ashamed of his churlish behaviour and with the idea of appeasing the doorkeeper he turned once again to the notice.

At the top was a neat red torch set in a circle of other symbols, with most of which he was unfamiliar. Outside these again were the signs of the Zodiac. With a returning sense of chagrin he reflected that this was precisely the sort of thing his mood had demanded. Undoubtedly the service would be strange and full of an exotic mumbo-jumbo. He might even have got a story from it. A muffled sound of chanting beyond the doors increased his vexation. However he read on: