Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. " The Wastrel laughed. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. Such was his fury, that if he had not been restrained by the presence of the two turnkeys, he might perhaps have anticipated the course of justice, by laying violent hands upon his victim. As in a dream, Melusine saw her faithful footman struck, his headlong progress checked. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses.
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