‘But a spy I am not. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. . She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. "I cannot scare him thence. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word.
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