He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. “You are in trouble,” he said. . ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. It would have given me intense satisfaction to have been able to catch a French spy. ” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home.
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