" "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. And now tell me what has happened to my poor mother?" "Ever since your last capture, and Thames's mysterious disappearance, she has been dreadfully ill," replied Winifred; "so ill, that each day was expected to be her last. Three little letters can’t make a bit of difference. I meant to lie to you. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. ‘Imbecile.
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