Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. "I heard his voice; but I saw them on the stairs, and durst not approach him, for fear of giving the alarm. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. I shall only pray that I may reward you for all your goodness to me. " "I see. .
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