” He ducked out. “Really,” she said. ’ At a quarter past eleven I returned here with this gentleman, Mr. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. Come, mon ami, come!’ Ever faithful, Kimble dragged himself into a sitting position, gasping at the pain this caused him. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. But I must summon my janizaries.
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