CHAPTER II. She was no longer there. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily.
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