"I can," replied Trenchard. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked. Abruptly, Gerald turned. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. "I'm not worth it. . ’ ‘Ah, that was well done of him,’ exclaimed Melusine.
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