A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. The account of the discovery of Sir Rowland's murder filled Winifred with alarm; but when she learnt what had befallen Thames—how he had been stricken down by the thief-taker's bludgeon, and left for dead, she uttered a piercing scream, fainted, and would have fallen, if Jack had not caught her in his arms. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer.
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