Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. " "How so?" inquired Winifred. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. The four tourists contributed varied sums: the spinsters ten cents each, the girl a shilling, the young man a Mexican dollar. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. Charcoal.
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