And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. It is always on his person. "Sir Rowland is murdered!" cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. The face that looked down upon Ann Veronica was full of amiable intention. In all other respects they differed as materially. Used to play together, we did, all over Remenham House.
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