Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. At least for one moment, it was.
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