” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. “A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. ” There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child. I don’t care.
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