The forgiveness and reconciliation was a cold and formal affair, and afterwards her father went off gloomily to his study, and Mr. Thames Darrell III. “Well, hello there. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword.
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