. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. Return, I implore of you, to your master,—to Mr. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. Really they are the most beautiful things in the world. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground.
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