“I should kill you. We shall become a prey to the Philistines, and must turn honest in self-defence. This time there wasn't any doubt. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. But one thing troubled him, and because of it he might never arrive on the beach. I get the feeling that you are special, so alone, so beautiful that I must get to the bottom of you if it takes my whole life.
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