Myra heard the stacatto footsteps growing louder and louder.  They stopped and

             the door was flung open.  Myra found herself staring into the dark eyes of an angry-

             looking woman with sharp, feline features.

                    “Yes?” the woman snapped.

                    Myra looked at the woman.  Her long, jet black hair was tied back with a red ribbon

             Her black dress contrasted with her clear white skin.

                    “I..I’m Myra Webb…” she began.

                    “Ah, Miss Webb,” the woman said in a harsh, cold voice.  “I’m Ellen Grainger.  Sister,

             cook, and housekeeper to his holiness, Ned Grainger,” she added with evident sarcasm.

                    “Nice to meet you,” Myra said politely as she extended her hand toward Ellen.

                    Ellen ignored the gesture.  “Ned’s waiting for you,” she said in a flat voice.  “Come in.”

                    Myra followed Ellen to Ned Grainger’s study.  She was awed by the floor to ceiling

             bookshelves filled with leather-bound classics.  Heavy drapes hung over the two-side

             windows but the third window, the one overlooking the garden, was open.   A large,