She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Advancing towards the Master, and claiming an audience, which was instantly granted, Jonathan, without much circumlocution, related the sum of the strange story he had just learnt from Wood, omitting nothing except a few trifling particulars, which he thought it politic to keep back; and, with this view, he said not a word of there being any probability of capturing the fugitive, but, on the contrary, roundly asserted that his informant had witnessed that person's escape. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. It had ceased to beat.
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