She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Oh! that Mr. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. CHAPTER XII. ’ He added on a teasing note, ‘Though if there’s anything suspicious we can always get the key from Pottiswick. All I had to do was to piece them together.
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