She could think of nothing more to say. I’ll mention it. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. " "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. He's a nice boy, a good student. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. "Be it so," replied Jack. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall.
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