‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. “I’m sorry. They broke open the entrance into Jonathan's store-room—plundered it of everything valuable—ransacked every closet, drawer, and secret hiding-place, and stripped them of their contents. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. Jackson noticed a fine service of old blue china in an open japan closet, Mr. " Darrell returned no answer.
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