” “You have it,” he declared confidently. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction. Happy Thanksgiving. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. “I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. There was none. A hansom stopped a little way off.
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