"Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. Now you will learn the result. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. You only mean a secret for a little time?” “Just for a little time,” she said; “yes. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. Liberates the girl from parental control.
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