Good-bye aunt. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. 13 Montague Street. ‘To where has he gone off?’ ‘No use asking me,’ shrugged the captain. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. " "It'll not need to be repeated, at all events," rejoined Jonathan, looking with a smile of malignant satisfaction at the body. .
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