Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. You Americans laugh at our custom of honouring our ancestors, our many-times great grandfathers. ' That's your signal.
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