” He consumed Irish stew for some moments. "What of her?" cried the knight. " CHAPTER VI. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. Everything, my dear, everything!. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. Journeying blindly half way across the world, this man had found his quarry.
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