That is easy. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. . Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. The ladder was now within reach.
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