The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. He did not have to. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up.
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