" Ruth's eyes began to glow. “In the event of his death we should require you at once to attend at the inquest. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. . Hoddy! All her fears fell away.
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