"The speedy union of Thames Darrell with Winifred Wood," replied Jack. Wild on his guard against an assassin. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. " "What!" exclaimed Mrs. ” “She does. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. " "What's that?" asked Wood with some curiosity. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it.
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