" "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh. 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. Nothing else matters. It was plain that a man of his age could only be interested for one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a little before the main event. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. Catch him, she begged silently. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. Think better of it. I shan't drive a hard bargain. "Your health, Kneebone.
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