"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. "If this is the case, where is she?" "In Bedlam," replied the thief-taker, with a Satanic grin. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. I——” She threw herself into an easy chair.
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