She told us that it was a disguise. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. I'll repay you. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. “Why?” He inquired. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off.
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