Look at the poor victim at your feet. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. His face will be all I need. Wild. But anything is better than this. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. A small voice greeted her, hissing. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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