Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. “I will tell you something if you like. " "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country.
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