Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. "These people are all in league with him," cried the latter. He is delightful, is he not?’ ‘That will do, Lucilla. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. But it doesn’t alter the situation.
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