" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. " "Very well, Sir," replied Austin, rising and walking towards them. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. “Now you look happy. If Thames Darrell escapes, you will lose both life and property. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. You have said a thousand times that there was no shame in you.
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