The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. "From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. . Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. His hunger satisfied, his spirits began to revive, and with this change of mood all his natural audacity returned. Immortal! You were in the beginning, and all the men in the world who have known what love is have worshipped at your feet.
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