Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. I hid because there was no other way of seeing you. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. "Damnation!" exclaimed one of the leaders of the party in a furious tone, snatching a torch from an attendant, and throwing its light full upon the face of the carpenter; "this is not the villain, Sir Cecil. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone.
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