While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. "There were some marks near the window; but whether recently made or not could not be ascertained," replied Winifred. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. CHAPTER II. But it was of no avail. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. But Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution.
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