When London Sleeps — page 229: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

224 A GUARD OF THE HEATHEN. “Come, Miss Carruthers,’’ said Mark, “I will take you from this place.”’ ‘The doors are locked,’’ returned Queenie. ‘““But the keys are here,’’ producing them from his pocket. ‘*Do you think I will permit you to use them ?’’ yelled Haynes. As he spoke, he drew a pistol, leveled it and fired. With a cry, Mark Blackwood threw up his arms and fell, face downward, shot through the heart. His cry was echoed by Queenie. Her only de- fender was gone. The next moment she was seized, flung upon the faggot-laden altar, and the chains adjusted so that she could not extricate herself. ‘In a few minutes,’’ said Haynes, with a derisive laugh, **my White Queen will be ashes, and es: inheritance mine!” He picked up the keys where they had fallen, ‘unlocked one of the doors and left the temple. — ‘“Rodney! Rodney!’’ pleaded Queenie, with ashen, quivering lips. ‘‘You cannot be in earnest. Think to what you are condemning me! Pity! Pity!” There was no answer. She was alone, doomed to a horrible death. She twisted her head to obtain one last look at the man she loved, But the trapeze was empty. _. David was not there. Oh! could not his eyes see. his heart guess her peril! There was a roaring sound beneath her and little -comicbooks.co