She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue.
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