The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. He will wish to have his fears laid to rest. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland. It's never a bad day that has a good ending.
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