] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. Gerald swore. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. ’ ‘Grateful? Certainly I am grateful,’ Melusine snapped, knowing full well she sounded anything but gratified. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. ’ Gerald raised his brows. It came to Ann Veronica that life was wonderful beyond measure. Carried out to sea by Van Galgebrok, and thrown overboard, while struggling with the waves, he had been picked up by a French fishing-boat, and carried to Ostend. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed.
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