Ramage—about the forty pounds. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton.
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