He let go of the girl’s arm. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. "But first let us secure Sheppard. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. CHAPTER XVI.
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