" "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. ‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. ToC "At length this tragedy is at an end," said Mr.
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