" "O Jack, dear, dear Jack!" cried Mrs. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. Unlocking it, he entered the chamber, which by no means belied its external appearance. "A good idea!" exclaimed the carpenter. "I'm not going to get rid of you just yet.
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