The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. A brief calm succeeded. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. C below. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. Eh bien, you have now the opportunity. ' We shall be pleased to see more of your work. “This isn’t a world for an innocent girl to walk about in.
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