" "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. I was grateful. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. This wedge of silver," pointing to another, "which would mend a coffee-pot, serves to stop up a breach made by Will Colthurst, who robbed Mr. " Mr. " He laughed and followed her into the hotel. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks.
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