CHAPTER XXIX. She has no proof—yet. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. Beauty has bloomed and faded. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture. "You have uttered a wilful and deliberate falsehood in asserting that I have murdered Thames, for whom you well know I would lay down my life. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. A door in this house opened upon the yard. Such was the terror inspired by Wild's vindictive character, that few durst face him who had given him cause for displeasure. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. Wood laughed louder than ever. It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat. .
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