" "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation.
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