What Charles Peace saw in the flood of light was an aristocratic-looking woman, decked in the most costly raiment, with her neck and arms sparkling with jewels.
There was such an air of composure and refinement about her that he was fairly bewildered.
“Bessie Dalton, as I’m a living man!” he ejaculated.
CHAPTER CIV.
CHARLES PEACE IS CHECKMATED.
The pale dauntless woman, with her haughty delicate face, and her loops of brown hair falling over robes of white, stood erect and motionless, confronting the levelled weapon of the burglar without the slightest fear.
To his exclamation she made no reply.
He had never before set eyes on such a sight as this in circus nor music-hall, nor gallery of a metropolitan theatre.
For a moment he lost his heart—for a moment he hesitated.
In that moment his companion was equal to the occasion.