But whither The Tigress was bound or who the owner was lay beyond the reach of Ah Cum's deductions. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. ” Sir John’s head bent lower and lower. " "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs.
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