Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. ’ A trifle discomposed at being caught examining his surroundings, Gerald was provoked into retort. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. It would be swindling. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. Pancras,” she directed, promptly. " "Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine cigar across the table. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. Very glad. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. ” “And the people?” Brendon asked.
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