uspicion that you are the person
sought for."

My poor Margaret cried out and nearly swooned with terror, but Lady
Jane was herself at once. "Give over your nonsense, Peggy, this
instant! Hughie is not a mewling baby to be frightened, with a
warning before him! Colvill, you have acted with the discretion I
should have expected in you, and I thank you in my cousin's name
and my own. Hughie, do you find out some new place at once; I marked
a little sempstress who has a shop in Wych Street only the other
day, and I would apply there if you know of no other. Do not go
back to your old lodgings on any account. When I hear where you
are, I will supply you with everything needful."

The Vicomte very obligingly offered me the shelter of his roof for
the night, but I answered I could not think of exposing him, when
on diplomatic business, to the charge of sheltering a rebel, and
was pleased to have so handsome an excuse to cover my unwillingness
to lie under an obligation towards him.

In a moment the whole aspect of our little party was changed, and
I took my way to seek for a new shelter, leaving anxious hearts
behind me.

CHAPTER III

"THE DEAD AND THE ABSENT ARE ALWAYS WRONG"

I myself was not greatly disturbed over the turn things had taken,
for I had begun to be suspicious of my thrifty Scot in Greek Street,
and, as I had left behind me neither papers nor effects which could
compromise myself or others when he laid his dirty claws upon them,
I turned my back on him without regret.

The hour was late to enter upon a search for new lodgings without
arousing suspicion, and this determined me to try the sempstress
indicated by Lady Jane.

I found the street without difficulty, and, what was better, without
questioning, and soon discovered the little shop with a welcome
gleam of light shewing through the closed shutters. The street was
empty, so I advanced, and, after knocking discreetly, tried the
door, which, to my surprise, I found open, and so entered.

In a low chair behind the counter sate a solitary woman, sewing by
the indifferent light of a shaded candle. She looked at me keenly
and long, but without alarm.

"Madam," said I, closing the door behind me and slipping in the
bolt, "have no fear. My name is Captain Geraldine."

"That is a lie," she said, calmly, raising her face so the full
light of the candle should fall upon it.

Great heavens! It was that of my wife!

I sank down on a settle near