’ ‘A mistake, I agree. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. . Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate.
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