And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. “There wasn’t. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. He turned and shouted some orders to the Kanaka crew, then nodded to the sampan's coolies, who bore upon the sweeps and headed for the Sha-mien.
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