Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. "Well, good night, Mr. “My dad is into this stuff. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. Now I do. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. It is a big house and there are many rooms in which to hide. He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood. "Oh!—to see you thus!" cried Thames, in an agony of affliction. "Oh gracious! he's lost.
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