Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. . And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. After all, this could never be the black sheep. Entranced, he stared at the name.
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