He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. He, next, discovered that Blueskin was gone; and, pursuing his scrutiny, found that he had carried off all the banknotes, gold, and letters,—including, what Jonathan himself was not aware of,—the two packets which he had abstracted from the person of Thames. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. Mrs. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation.
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