"Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. Voilà tout. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. Only that you will hurry and help Jacques. “The first is to discover what she is here for, and where she is staying. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. ‘I live in Kent.
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