I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. She waited for him to leave the room, and turned back to Gerald. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Mark yourself as a charitable man and you’ll be rewarded here and in Heaven. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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