CHAPTER XXIII. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. I have—run away. ” “What is there to be feared?” he asked her quietly. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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