"Stop a minute, my dear," cried Austin. . . " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. “But perhaps I want to confess them. ” “You shall have every penny of it back. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. You are my wife now and you belong to me. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. .
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