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And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. E below. CHAPTER IX. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. Unless he has killed someone. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. " "Oh, no,—no," replied Mrs.
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