Sheppard. ” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. He stopped abruptly before the apparently incurious Chinaman. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. . The executioner shook his head.
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