‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. He was silent. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. Where was the expected message from this captain, who had promised to send her word at the instant Gerald returned to town. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority.
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