. . “Don’t let them know I’m here. We always go out to dinner on holidays. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him. “Quite alone, sir. They must have a key. CHAPTER XXII. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. ‘You were right, miss. He does not look the criminal. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie.
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