And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. ‘Was you following, too, miss?’ ‘Certainly I was following. His face clouded with anger. ” “Out with it, then,” he cried, almost roughly. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. Mr. . Sc. ’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. Hoddy, what made you do it? Whatever made you do it?" "God knows! Something said to me: Take it! Take it! And … I took it.
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