" "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. "Come, I must search you my youngster!" "You shan't touch me," rejoined Thames; and, suddenly bursting from Charcam, he threw himself at the feet of Trenchard. “You silly fool,” he said. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. .
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