She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. "You're wanted. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis. " His daughter, however, anticipated him. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm.
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