The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. " "Very well, sir. "Well reminded," answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with a smile of gratified vengeance; "I had forgotten the accursed imp in this confusion. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. Never mind, I’ve got plenty. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight.
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