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What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. A sob was strangled in her throat. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. "The poor young man!" she said. ‘Help yourself, Hilary. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. "Back!" cried Jack fiercely: "lay a finger on her, and I will fell you to the ground. But the five per cent. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough.
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