"Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. A brief calm succeeded. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. Another horn now resounded from the further extremity of the thoroughfare; this was answered by a third; and presently a fourth, and more remote blast, took up the note of alarm. He lives near the Black Lion. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away.
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