"Fly, Captain—fly!" Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door. Jack's friends were allowed to visit him,; but as he had openly avowed his intention of attempting an escape, their proceedings were narrowly watched. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. There were no mourners. Martin managed to catch her after class the next day. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. .
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