" "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features. She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. .
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