”—Give you, Cyril Mallow,” whispered Luke, bending lower, “as I do, from my soul.”
Part 3, Chapter XV.
Widowed Indeed.
“Better take the lady away, sir,” said the warder whom Luke had last addressed, and who had shown some rough feeling, as he beckoned him aside. “There’ll be an inquest, of course, and I must have your card and the names of the others. There’s sure to be a row, too, about your hitting Smith.”
Luke took out his card-case without a word.
“Lady his wife, sir?” said the man.
“Yes, and her uncle,” replied Luke, giving the name of the hotel where they were staying. “I think we’ll come on to the prison and see the governor.”
“As you like, sir,” said the warder; “but if I might advise, I’d say take the lady away at once, and cool down yourself before you come. You could do no good now.”