" "Iss, missis," grinned the black. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. One cannot trust any man at all. ‘It is what my father intended. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. .
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