A door slammed. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. ” Lucy said, frowning. She was nearly dead. Why did the beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see McClintock; and the sooner he came the better. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided.
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