BRAS-DE-FER MAKES A CAPTURE
splendid lines of the neck, the imperious turn of the head, the determination in the firm lines of the mouth, which, in spite of the ill-concealed terror which lurked in the eyes and brows, betrayed a purpose to defend herself to the last. Bras-de-Fer stepped back a pace in his surprise to look again; but there was no mistake. He had seen that same figure, that same poise of the head, almost that same look out of the eyes, and, deep as he had steeped his mind in the things which brought forgetfulness, every line of it was written upon his memory. The lady was Mistress Barbara Clerke.
