“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road.
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