. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Her pulses began to race. “You are an impostor. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead.
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