"Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. “We suspect that Mary is alive, and we think she will try to contact you if she ever tracks you down. '—'They can't,' says I. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all. ” “Fine. He smiled complacently. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. ” He ruminated for a minute. She is the wife now of another man. But Sheppard answered for him. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly.
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