Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. “Now, there, there. ” “Thanks to me,” he repeated, puzzled. “It is just a look.
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