CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. 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 own,’ Gerald replied. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. It reverberated in the silence. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. " "We know it," cried several voices. I didn't mean it. Well, that’s the situation. "Thames, this is no forgery.
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