‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. ” He was intrigued. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. He carries with him something that will mark him anywhere—the girl.
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