The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. He shook his head. Ennison paused by the little gate. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears.
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