’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity.
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