Mrs. ‘Not but what it was near that before Jarvis died. I didn’t understand before that letter. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. ‘Never would he have gone to England.
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