He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. "By George!" he exclaimed. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. “You must pack for me. Wood's charms equalled your description. “Was I that bad?” He asked.
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