Courtlaw, Mr. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. She shuddered. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. "Good night!" "So," muttered Jonathan, "having started the hare, I'll now unleash the hounds.
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