" "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. Glad you're home safe. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. Brown. Kneebone's," remarked Austin, rising to fasten the door.
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