As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. This one too she read. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. . 3. " "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently.
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