Again silence. "Jack Sheppard knows this house, I believe, Sir," observed Shotbolt. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. She stopped eating. "I'll tell you why," he said. " "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. "I will not submit to be thus interrogated," said Winifred, angrily. "You mistake,—you are mine.
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