Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. ‘Oh, peste. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast.
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