His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. ” “What do you want?” he asked, bluntly. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off. “That’s a weird name. We'll have him on his way before many days. “Yes, I see that. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. ‘Parbleu, you waste time. .
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