The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. A hansom stopped a little way off. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. It was bare of any furnishings. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. " "It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress,—"the child!" "A diamond! Here, take the kid," cried Blueskin, slipping the infant adroitly under her scarf.
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