“There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. Wood rushed instantly to meet them. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. "You've charged with assisting your comrade, Jack Sheppard, to purloin certain articles of value from a jewel-case belonging to Lady Trafford. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. She could tell that he was leering at her. CHAPTER I.
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