Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it.
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