A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. “I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister.
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