" McClintock whistled. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. “I’ll be hanged if I do. ’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. It will be horribly dull, and she is a very trying person. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland.
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