“You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through.
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