"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ’ Her breath tightened and she was obliged to control an inner ferocity. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. ” “Then may I come to the study to-night—after dinner?” “I’m—BUSY!” “It’s important. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. .
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