The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. \" Diane Vorsack chirped with the grin of a Cheshire Cat, extending her right hand in greeting. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. "Where did you get this from?" asked Wild, greatly surprised at the result of his investigation. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard.
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