He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. It’s—Mrs. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. "Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. " "Winifred," said Mrs. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. " "Stop!" interposed Edgeworth Bess; "Mr. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated.
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