"Laurence! look! a black beard, a long beard; can it be----"
"Wait, wait," interrupted Mallow; and throwing open the French window, he ran across the terrace down the steps. With a yelp the man scrambled back, but stumbled full length on the slippery crust of snow. Mallow gripped his shoulder as he dropped. "Who the devil are you?" he said roughly.
"Mr. Mallow?" The ragged creature gave a howl of joy. "I'm--I'm Trall!"
[CHAPTER II.]
"THE PENANCE OF MARGERY."
"I'm Trall," repeated the man, staggering to his feet.
He plucked off a false beard, thereby throwing into prominence the haggardness of his face.
"Trall?" echoed Mallow, as though taking in the man's identity for the first time. "Good God, I thought you were dead!" The man whimpered, and fawned on Mallow as a whipped dog fawns on its master. "I'm alive; I'm Trall," he reiterated. "I'm so glad it's you, Mr. Mallow. I thought they were after me. But I'm Trall; you know me, don't you? You'll save me, won't you? I'm afraid of them.'
"Whatever is the matter, Laurence?" called out Olive, at the window. "Who is it?"
"It's all right, Olive; it's only Trall. I'll explain later; go inside now.--Good God!" said Mallow, again looking at the wreck of humanity before him. "Alive after all."