"Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. They've paid for their lodging. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. ‘What you can do, Lucy, rather than make enquiries, is introduce me to this comte and comtesse. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience.
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