Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. Your speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. They were horrible people. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. ” She laid her fingers upon his arm, and they both stood still. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone.
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