“Experte credo. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. ‘Yes, but quite my own fault. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. "Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands, gleefully. ’ Dieu du ciel, but she was a fool. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. "I thought as much," continued Jonathan.
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