Then she called a hansom and drove home. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. “Well, make sure you use something. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. You know how stubborn they get. . It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark.
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