laws alone swamp our small staff. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. The country was partitioned in a similar manner. For a few minutes all was silent. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. “Thank you—and good-bye.
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