"From Mr. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. ‘You cannot be always with me. It was eleven o'clock. They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Also Lucy, who had been so much her friend.
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