"I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. His smile faded. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. But, you see, I’m smirched. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. ’ She threw a melting look at Roding. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not.
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