“I remember you now,” he said. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. It was hot and dry.
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