“Cheveney!” she repeated. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. Amiable and good-looking. go. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. Just as he had arrived at the mouth of the drain, and Jack felt certain he must be discovered, a loud shout was raised from the further end of the field that the fugitive was caught. .
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