“There was an accident with a pistol in Miss Pellissier’s room,” he said. “Mr. " And she flung herself between them. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. '" As the signal was given, the Jew, who had been some time in expectation of it, darted swiftly and silently behind Sir Rowland, and flung a cloth over his head, while Jonathan, rushing upon him in front, struck him several quick and violent blows in the face with the bludgeon. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. Let’s go.
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