" "Why what will she say?" inquired Sheppard. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. "I didn't awake you, because you seemed tired. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. "I will be there at the time. Then he took me out to Monteaux, on a motor. The operation was effected with so much rapidity and so little noise, that even if any one had been on the alert, he could scarcely have detected it. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers.
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