She turned out the electric light and gained the hall. “What the hell. The Iron Bar. How came you to know it? Have you heard the name before?" "I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. “One genius in the family is enough. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead.
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