A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. " "Never," echoed Smith, emphatically, "upon my honour. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. "Aha!" exclaimed Jonathan, acting upon the information he had obtained from Wood; "I have found you at last.
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