He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. Wood, "and take your son with you. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. But they were too late. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him.
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