—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. Her eyes quizzed the major. As Jonathan scarcely expected a more satisfactory result, he made no comment; but, ordering Quilt to continue his search, and not to return until he had found the fugitive, called Abraham Mendez into the house, and shut the door. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. " "How soon do you expect Mishter Vudd?" inquired the janizary, tauntingly. Either she had been seen, or they were seeking the air. .
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