Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. ‘Don’t tell me. ‘She’s still bleeding.
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