Stanley’s pace slackened. . So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. ‘It is pretty. " "Murdered!" ejaculated Winifred. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. Sir John stood upon the threshold. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. This time they would call it murder. “Steady on!” he cried.
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