"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. A door led to the inner room; and it was evident from the peals of merriment, and other noises, that, ever and anon, resounded from within, that this chamber was occupied by the Marquis and his friends. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. She crooked her finger. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk.
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