Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. ‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor.
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