" "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. However, confession of a fault makes half amends for it. There was—a service. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. ‘Precisely. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. I spied a small picture of them in your house, though. They struck her as cold and indifferent. "Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm.
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