* * * * * With heavy feet Sir Anthony entered the pleasantly lit drawing-room. It was almost midnight. Mildred was sitting on the sofa, very still, with Molly’s hand in hers. At a sign from the old man, the little girl rose and tiptoed from the room. Mildred looked up. She was very pale, but entirely composed. “They have found him?” her lips asked. “Yes—by the stakes above the weir.” “He was—dead?” “Yes. He appears to have gone under the moment they took the child from his arms. He held …
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