“I shall never forget,” I heard her say as I crossed the floor to where Mr. Gryce stood looking out of the window, “that your blood runs in my veins together with that of my gentle-hearted, never-to-be-forgotten mother.  Whatever my fate may be or wherever I may hide the head you have bowed to the dust, be sure I shall always lift up my hands in prayer for your repentance and return to an honest life.  God grant that my prayers may be heard and that I may yet receive at your hands, a father’s kindly blessing.”

The only answer to this was a heavily muttered growl that gave but little promise of any such peaceful termination to a deeply vicious life.  Hearing it, Mr. Gryce hastened to procure his men and remove the hardened wretches from the spot.  All through the preparations for their departure, she stood and watched their sullen faces with a wild yearning in her eye that could scarcely be denied, but when the door finally closed upon them, and she was left standing there with no one in the room but myself she steadied herself up as one who is conscious that all the storms of heaven are about to break upon her; and turning slowly to the door waited with arms crossed and a still determination upon her brow, the coming of the feet of him whose resolve she felt must have, as yet been only strengthened by her resistance.

She had not long to wait.  Almost with the closing of the street door upon the detectives and their prisoners, Mr. Blake followed by Mrs. Daniels and another lady whose thick veil and long cloak but illy concealed the patrician features and stately form of the Countess De Mirac, entered the room.

The surprise had its effect; Luttra was evidently for the moment thrown off her guard.

“Mrs. Daniels!” she breathed, holding out her hands with a longing gesture.

“My dear mistress!” returned that good woman, taking those hands in hers but in a respectful way that proved the constraint imposed upon her by Mr. Blake’s presence.  “Do I see you again and safe?”

“You must have thought I cared little for the anxiety you would be sure to feel,” said that fair young mistress, gazing with earnestness into the glad but tearful eyes of the housekeeper.  “But indeed, I have been in no position to communicate with you, nor could I do so without risking that to protect which I so outraged my feelings as to leave the house at all.  I mean the life and welfare of its master, Mrs. Daniels.”

“Ha, what is that?” quoth Mr. Blake.  “It was to save me, you consented to follow them?”

“Yes; what else would have led me to such an action?  They might have killed me, I would not have cared, but when they began to utter threats against you—­”

“Mrs. Blake,” exclaimed Mrs. Daniels, catching hold of her mistress’s uplifted hand, and pointing to a scar that slightly disfigured her white arm a little above the wrist, “Mrs. Blake, what’s that?”

A pink flush, the first I had seen on her usually pale countenance, rose for an instant to her cheeks, and she seemed to hesitate.