Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. " "'Tis he, by Heaven!" cried Jonathan; "this is lucky. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. "My friend here," said McClintock, "tells me you are looking for a job. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica.
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