A time may come,—and that ere long,—when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. Refused admittance, they broke open the door. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. ' But, gentlemen, though they talked so largely, and looked so fiercely, they did not do it; they did not hang the bailiffs; and where are they?" "Ay, where are they?" echoed the company with indignant derision. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage.
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