“He is evidently a friend of Mrs. He deserves none. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. CHAPTER VII.
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