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"Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. CHAPTER XIII. I understand. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. . They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other.
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