As he was leaving the hotel, Ah Cum stepped up to his side. " "What am I to do to earn it?" asked Blueskin, with a disgusting leer,—"cut a throat—or throw myself at your feet—eh, my dear?" "Give me that child," returned the lady, with difficulty overcoming the loathing inspired by the ruffian's familiarity. "He stands before you," rejoined her son. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. Die game.
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