“I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. "I am innocent, f have stolen nothing. No means were neglected to accomplish this end. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things.
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