" "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. “Hey, Mike. What are you going to tell me?" "Nothing. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. Hill, Meysey Hill. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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