” 209 Clotilde was no fool. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. " "And, what good would that do?" replied Ireton, sarcastically. "You must be a cleverer lad than even I take you for, if you get out of this place. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. certainly did seem to improve the aspect of Ramage’s suggestion.
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