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Then she sang. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. You care for me just a little, I know. It’s Providence. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. There were lines in her face that age had not put there. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. But then the features changed. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly.
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