” He was suddenly calm. He stood back and held her shoulders. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. Over these boards the two arms of a guide-post serve to direct the wayfarer—on the right hand to the neighbouring villages of Neasdon and Kingsbury, and on the left to the Edgeware Road and the healthy heights of Hampstead. "So I did," retorted Mrs.
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