" "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face.
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