"Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. She found next morning, when she came to this advertisement answering, that it was more difficult than she had supposed. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. Hogarth," he observed, significantly. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. John knew everybody, it seemed.
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