Not a word passed between them. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house? Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into the sheet-shrouded furniture.
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