"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. You are much more like what I was then. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. At the same time Sydney and Brendon also vacated their places. . "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. . You won't often see white folks.
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