The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. He filled his pipe slowly. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. And yet I know not—for the object of his visit here to-night was to serve Jack, who, if your statement is correct, which I cannot however for a moment believe, does not deserve his assistance. I cannot go on.
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