Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. "Away with him!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, impatiently. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. “But your hair,” he gasped. ” Ann Veronica perceived that she must not forget to remain eminently reasonable. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. "I have one inquiry more to make of you, Sir," said the stranger, as soon as he had conquered his displeasure, "and I will then trouble you no further.
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