As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. "My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly; "which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer.
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