" "You would purchase it at the price of your head," replied Jonathan, knitting his brows. " Himself. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. "But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room,—the table upset,—the bloody cloth,— the dead man's sword,—the money,—and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph.
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