Stanley as they drew alongside, to account for his own ruffled and heated expression. By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. “Showtime!” Martin cried. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. Disperse in every direction. White. A bad sign; it signified that the heart action was in a precarious state. Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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