Excited by the scene, Jack, however, could pay little attention to the good man's discourse, and was lost in a whirl of tumultuous emotions. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. I burned it. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. He was now aided with a powerful implement, with which he soon contrived to make a hole in the wall.
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