“Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. Of course, he had no idea who I was. The room seemed a vacuum. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace.
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