" "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. E. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside.
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