"You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. There was nothing to replace the all important letter from her father. With his foodle doo! "Peace!" cried Jack. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Promise me one thing before I leave you. Lord, but it was a nun! Just as he had suspected. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. And think things out. No need to do such things. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers.
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