"Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. She heard him come in; the light burned on. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. ” “That’s the comfort of you. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. He's a Welshman, and I wouldn't for a trifle that any accident befel him. The other lay unconscious in a heap. Say I will come to him. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. " "I'll take my chance," replied Jonathan, with a sinister smile.
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