But, feeling secure of vengeance, he determined to abide his time. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Three times she escaped. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. But she was disappointed. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. And you know all about that shot. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. There was a flash and a loud report. " And, once more enveloping himself in darkness, he pursued his course.
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