Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Sheppard. He was asleep. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. . ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. . . When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument.
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