Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned.
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