It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. But though he visited Sir Rowland Trenchard's seat, Ashton Hall, he could gain no tidings of him, or of his uncle, Sir Rowland, who, it seems, has left the country. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. " "Shall I tell you a real story?" "Something you have seen?" "Yes. Come and have lunch with me. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her.
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