"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. "Confusion!" he cried; "something has happened. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation web page at http://www.
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