"Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. "To me?" gasped Winifred. The clock struck half-past ten. "Did you write it?" "No. . “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door.
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