You are a detective?" "Yes. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. The massive door was unlocked, and they entered the cell. ‘Do not beg my pardon. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. And yet I know not—for the object of his visit here to-night was to serve Jack, who, if your statement is correct, which I cannot however for a moment believe, does not deserve his assistance. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. Stonily he had disengaged himself. The poor fellow's half smothered.
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