Spurlock grew cold. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. . F. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. ” The stranger came over to them smiling. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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