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"Do you think he is guilty?" "And where is Mr. Sarby?" asked the inspector, as they turned to leave the room. Miss Jinny had been quietly removing her outer coverings and as Griffin spoke she dropped her last concealing wrap, and stepped out in turban and embroidered jacket, vermillion girdle and wide, baggy blue trousers whose voluminous folds almost hid the vermillion and gold tips of her curling slippers. A simitar was thrust fiercely through the flaming girdle, and a gaudy hookah cuddled in the crook of her arm, while the bristling whiskers and encarmined cheeks and nose of the weather-beaten seafarer proclaimed a strong masculine personality in striking contrast to the pretty young men Turks and Persians that tittered in feminine fashion all about her..

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Leaf V. The public prosecutor stated the case in all its fullness. The prisoner, said he, was a medical man practicing in Deanminster. He had seen Miss Isabella Dallas, and had fallen in love with the lady, and also--which was more important--with the fortune of the lady. Evidently he had made up his mind that no obstacle should stand in the way of his marriage with Miss Dallas. But it so happened that there was one obstacle--the young lady was in love with Mr. Maurice Alymer, a young gentleman of position, who held a commission in Her Majesty's army. Her love was returned, and the young people were engaged. "Mercy sakes, we'll be torn to tatters!" cried Miss Jinny from behind her veil. "Good thing we're done up good and tight. Lands! There goes my whisk—no, they don't either, it's only the veil. Oh, for pity's sake, woman, let me through without any palaver! Can't you tell I'm a female?" The attendant, who at the sight of Miss Jinny's bushy beard had thrust a sturdy arm across the door, dropped the barrier with a snort of laughter, and they were inside the swinging door of the cloak room, with a flushed maid waiting for their wraps, and an edge line of muffled newcomers pushing at their backs. "Isn't it lovely and mysterious?" murmured Elinor, pausing to enjoy the sense of isolation that the obscurity of the blurred lamps emphasized. "I almost hate to lift the curtain. It may be so disappointing.".