" "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. " "He won't be taking that. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. I have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight.
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