"He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. "God in Heaven!" he cried, "the floor is covered with blood. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. The lady, who was indeed stunning, Gerald suddenly realised, said never a word. She must kill this man, or kill herself. "Not my king's," returned Wood. "And now, shall we proceed to Queenhithe?" "Stay!" cried the other, taking a chair, "a word with you, Mr. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly.
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