The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. "And what do you suppose we mean to do with you, eh?" "You mean to kill me," replied Thames, "by my cruel uncle's command. “In self-defence I had to,” she answered. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade.
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