"Sir Rowland is murdered!" cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. Poor little one. " "It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress,—"the child!" "A diamond! Here, take the kid," cried Blueskin, slipping the infant adroitly under her scarf. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion.
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