"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. "Darrell's job was done early this morning," he said; "and if I'd attended to his advice, the packing-case would have been finished at the same time. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. 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. "Ha! say you so? You must be looked to. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power.
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