And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. They will find me dead, yes. Because of the thought of love and companionship? No. It was not a difficult affair.
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