" "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. And let us go on with our evening. "If I could only make you realize what you have done," he said, lamely. It was an impulse. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. ” She turned a firelit face to her husband. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway.
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