Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. " "I'm a queer girl," she replied with a smile. "I heard his voice; but I saw them on the stairs, and durst not approach him, for fear of giving the alarm. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. “You see the pointer?” he asked.
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