"What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Clergymen were human. No— no, it must never be. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. ” “You may be sure of the one,” she murmured. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. " "Blueskin, clear the room," cried the Master; "these gentlemen would be private. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself.
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