Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. The bridge was open. I'll take two apprentices, and depict their career. The change has given man one good thing he never had before,” he said. ” “Well”—her breath failed her for a moment.
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