” The conversation hung for a moment. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle.
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