“You poor little girl!” he cried. He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace. " Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. She got to the driveway and was semi-surprised to see that his car was gone. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. But it is all very different. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. He began to tell me something—and stopped. From this singular collection Trenchard turned to regard its possessor, who was standing at a little distance from him, still engaged in earnest discourse with his attendant, and, as he contemplated his ruthless countenance, on which duplicity and malignity had set their strongest seals, he could not help calling to mind all he had heard of Jonathan's perfidiousness to his employers, and deeply regretting that he had placed himself in the power of so unscrupulous a miscreant.
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