—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. "It is useless," replied Mrs. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. Ah, and put him under if he wakes up. . It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.
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