But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. The Ragged Edge. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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