He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. “I was really interested in his stuff. Why, is the question I would like answered. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out.
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