When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. Lucy kissed him on the cheek. And, as usual,” she continued, a little bitterly, “I seem to have been sent along with the dullest and least edifying of Mrs. . ” “All right. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.
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