Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. " "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. "Do you recollect this key? Do you recollect to whom you gave it, and for what purpose? or shall I refresh your memory?" Wild appeared confounded. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance.
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