"For ever!" said the thief-taker, preparing to follow. " "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. " "I hope they are, Sir," answered Mrs. Sheppard. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir.
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