It was horrible, but she must do it. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister.
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