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But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. “It’s very late. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. The man was dangerous. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips.
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