CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. “Here goes,” he said. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. It feels like it. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant.
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