" "Go, Mr. " "My penance forbids it," said Trenchard, waving his hand. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. Families had seen their lands seized, their chateaux ransacked or burned, and those unlucky enough to have failed to anticipate disaster, had been murdered or dragged away to gaol. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. There were three other ships at anchor; but as two would be making Shanghai and one rounding to Singapore two days hence, it was logically certain that no fugitive would seek haven in one of these. On the other hand the two young men who sat on either side of Anna were already throwing murderous glances at the newcomer. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. At once. Watching her strip had been delicious for him, and a part of him enjoyed her self-consciousness acutely. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over.
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