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" "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. Wood hadn't struck me. It is an Occidental point of view. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. " "I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn," interposed Sharples, "at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. Besides, those things are deadly. She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. I see. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable.

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