"Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s.
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