He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. His smile faded. To find the incentive! But how? Thither and yon the idea roved, seeking the way. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Light flooded the place. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. ” She replied.
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