"Is it poison?" she asked. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. "This young fool is come to restore the article—whatever it may be—which Lady Trafford was anxious to conceal, and which his companion purloined. So she approached him with sandwiches. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. "By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days.
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