What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. I knew it. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced. Mr.
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