While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly. 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. Gosse, if he had any sense, would immediately seek out the Remenham lawyers. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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