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"Stay!" interposed Jonathan. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. In the pause she realized the attention of the others converged upon her, and that the tears were brimming over her eyes. CHAPTER XXIII. Wood. . ‘But a spy I am not. ” “I didn’t understand—your idea of making love. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker.
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