At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. He reached over and took her hand. " The Wastrel laughed. ‘Not yet, madame. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. —You've your answer, Blueskin," he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door; "it's useless to urge the matter further.
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