"As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. ” He complained, handing it, case and all, to Lucy. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. But it is all very different. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. " "Of what am I accused?" asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage. His eyes were closed. Even now she was dazed.
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