"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. Sheppard, with a look, the wildness of which greatly alarmed her companion. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. ” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged.
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