A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. I am certainly no ghost. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. “It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived.
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