—Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. “Want to see Mr. He called Enschede the Bellower.
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