salts? Yes.”

    “Go back and fetch.”

    I returned, sougand, ts in my draraced my steps. ill ed;  it in the lock; he paused, and addressed me again.

    “You don’t turn sick at t of blood?”

    “I t: I ried yet.”

    I felt a t no coldness, and no faintness.

    “Just give me your   do to risk a fainting fit.”

    I put my fingers into eady,” he door.

    I sao  ry; but tapestry , and t, c like a dog quarrelling. Mr. Rocer, putting do a minute,” and  foro tment. A s of lauged rance; noisy at first, and terminating in Grace Poole’s o  speaking, t and closed the door behind him.

    “o ts draains concealed a considerable portion of t in it, dressed ion of ; ill;  back; er ranger, Mason: I saoo t  soaked in blood.

    “er, and I took it: cer from tand: “,” said ook t in, and moistened ttle, and applied it to trils. Mr. Mason sly unclosed er opened t of trickling fast down.

    “Is te danger?” murmured Mr. Mason.

    “Pooc be so overcome, man: bear up! I’ll fetco be removed by morning, I inued.

    “Sir?”

    “I so leave you in tleman, for an urns: if , you  ter on t stand to s to  speak to ext—and—Ric  to ate yourself—and I’ll not anshe consequences.”

    Again t move; fear, eit to paralyse er put to my o use it as cion,”  trange feeling as ted in treating step ceased to be heard.

    orey, fastened into one of its mystic cells; nigacle under my eyes and ed from me by a single door: yes—t  I could bear; but I s t of Grace Poole b