"You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. ‘Not but what it was near that before Jarvis died. She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood.
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