"But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. ” Lucy replied. What does it matter? It is here, and it is here to stay. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ‘At this present, I must appropriate Lady Bicknacre. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter.
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