McClintock will be tuning up the piano to-day. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica.
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