"Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. "Leave him to me," he said. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. " "Thieves!" exclaimed Mrs.
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