Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. " "Your arrival was most providential," said Jack. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. I wonder——” He turned slowly round. " "Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. But Jack was too nimble for him. Man's fate is in his own hands.
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