“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. ‘You obstinate little devil. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel. “That is your sister’s name. "Solid ivory!" he said aloud; "solid from dome to neck! That's James Boyle in the family group. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack.
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