Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. ‘Poor Mary had no idea about the elopement Nicholas had undertaken,’ she told Gerald. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. My goodness gracious.
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