Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. \" Michelle sighed. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. But, when he got to the door with this intention, he became ashamed of his fears; and feeling convinced that Jack —bad as he might be—was not capable of such atrocious conduct as to plunder his benefactor twice, he contented himself with looking to the priming of his pistols, and placing them near him, to be ready in case of need, he threw himself on the bed and speedily fell asleep. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. "To the best of my belief, Thames Darrell has been murdered by you. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. Through this, his last trial, Jack's spirits never deserted him.
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