She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. I——” The door was thrown open. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. It isn’t illusions—for us. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. May we not repeat them once, at any rate, in London? “Ever yours, “NIGEL ENNISON.
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