"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. ” “There’s Miss Garvice. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it.
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