If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes.
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