He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. Imbecile. Stanley. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. "He has robbed him.
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