My eyes had rested on Daisy's face for an instant, as they took in every inmate of the place. Back to her face my eyes had wandered, attracted by a something that was familiar.
The heavy falling of a drunken man caused her to glance around. Her eyes were directed at me for a second or two—and instantly I was staggered.
Those eyes were Shadow's!
Daisy was Shadow.
If Shadow was Mat Morris, then Mat Morris was Daisy.
But could that be?
Could Mat Morris so artfully disguise himself? Could that slender throat, and drooping shoulders, and swelling bust, belong to a man?
[CHAPTER XXIV.]
"HELP IS HERE!"