"Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. At once. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. His glasses were gone. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. Not a moment is to be lost.
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