‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. "Rather cramped, eh?" "Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. It was for ever. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. "Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark.
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