Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. " "Where did you get it?" inquired Thames. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. I thought one had only to take it by the throat. Lucy stood in front of the piano.
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