Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. "Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it.
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