‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. It was Doctor Ralph, formerly the partner of Doctor Stickell in the Avenue, and now with a thriving practice of his own in Wamblesmith. As soon as the service was over, Thames contrived to approach him, and whispered, "Be cautious,—the funeral will take place after evening service. I did all for the best, I'm sure. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself.
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