The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. " "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. "But, I half suspect, of your father. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation. They heard voices inside but stood for a full thirty seconds looking at each other.
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