"That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. ‘Very useful, of course. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. Let him have his honeymoon. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. "Yes," answered the girl. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. But be very careful not to let him know. ” He paused. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”.
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