Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. A silence ensued. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. Lost in thought, Lucy barely heard Mrs.
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