She turned there and beckoned. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. A post-chaise seen in the road first alarmed us.
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