“I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. If you ride out there, and the place is well worth a visit, for the magnificent view it commands of some of the finest country in the neighbourhood of London,—you are certain to meet with him. ” “Straight?” “Not a bit of it! He’s been out after eight per cent. “I’ve got nothing in the world to pack with except a toy size portmanteau. I tell you—never mind the bill. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years.
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