“Mr. Hill again—alive. ” “I thought I was old enough,” she gasped, between laughter and crying. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. You spoke just now of a youth whom Mr.
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