"Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. He had thought it might have that effect. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. But ——” A look checked him. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Do you hear?" "I do, Sir," replied Austin respectfully. 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. She kept her face downcast. Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up.
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