A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. ” “Oh, you are strong and brave,” Annabel murmured. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. She slipped it calmly into her pocket.
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