Sheppard. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. "Good night!" "Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, "wait without. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Melusine came in, picked up the lantern, and heard the library door bang open just as the panel clicked closed behind her. Jack fell on his knees beside her.
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