Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. The doctor jumped to his feet. " "I'll not go," answered the other. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home.
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