’ ‘So that was it. Montressor’s guests were. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. " Ruth stood with drawn brows; she was trying to recall. F.
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