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"A sail?" said McClintock. " "Never fear, Sir," replied Marvel. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. Something seemed awry. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly. At the first blow, Mrs. ’ Madame ventured a glance up at his face, and fluttered her lashes. .

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