” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. ‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. " "Perhaps so," rejoined the stranger; "but I have others in reserve, not so generally known.
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