" Thames was about to follow, when he felt a gentle grasp upon his arm. Wood, "it may be poisoned. ” “If you want anything,” he said, “or get into any trouble, wire me. Though it’s very kind of you. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out.
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