He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. " Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision. Mr. “You are going to treat me as though I wasn’t. ’ ‘Eh? Why did you not say so, man?’ demanded Hilary crossly. “Very likely,” he answered. ” “But why——” Sir John stopped short. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. "It's a mysterious transaction altogether.
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