The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly.
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