"Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. But you are Annabel. ” She solemnly replied. "It is your son. Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. ‘Um—begging your pardon, sir, but—um—what was you meaning to arrest the young lady for?’ ‘Trespassing, theft, and suspicion of spying,’ announced Roding fluently.
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