I can. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. " "You're agitating yourself unnecessarily, Joan," returned Wood, in a soothing voice. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Madman that I am to be so!" "Help!" shrieked Mrs.
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