" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. "Joan! Joan!" vociferated he, "open the door, for God's sake, or I shall be murdered, and so will your babby! Open the door quickly, I say. ” He appeared to be paralyzed by abstruse acoustic calculations. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. CHAPTER III.
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