" "I see through your design, Jack," returned the carpenter, gravely; "but I don't like under-hand work. Only she sent me a message, and together we found a cottage for her to stay at. I wanted the magic of love. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts. There stepped forth a tall brown man. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. I ought to be able to think things out. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark.
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