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’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. “Of course!” he said. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. It was a different world. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame.

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