"Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. You must remember, you've just begun to read; you haven't any comparisons. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Do you have family that I should ask?” “Oh, Julian! No, my family is dead, lost. " "Don't scold him, father," interposed Thames; "he's been frightened enough already. Yes, of course. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. But they did what they could for her. You told him there wasn't anything in the pockets?" "Yes. "A hell of a muddle! But all the talk in the world can't undo it. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions.
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