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Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard. You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom thereā€”a big room where a table had fallen. . . I'd do anything for Thames Darrell.

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