CHAPTER XXIX. "My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly; "which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer. "Put it under my pillow," he said. ” He thought. ” He took a quick step forward. “I had lunch very late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. ‘Bête. " "Mr.
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