What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. For Mr Jarvis was beside himself when the letter come from Mr Charvill and he knew he’d lost you as well as Miss Mary. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me.
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