John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. Forgive me. ” “Clear out?” cried Hetty. But his daughter might well have a claim. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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