"It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. Promptly Ah Cum wired the information to O'Higgins in Hong-Kong. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. "That's for myself," rejoined Mrs. Spurling and Marvel. ’ Gerald tutted.
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