"A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. ’ ‘Then you will die at the hands of the canaille.
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