May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. "Jack," continued Thames, addressing Sheppard, who had only just recovered from the blow, and regained his feet, "I don't ask how you came here, nor do I blame your rashness in doing so. We're lost.
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