He’ll do. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. I was—I was a corespondent. What you’re after is too risky. Now, Sir," he added, turning to Jonathan, as Sir Cecil and his followers obeyed his injunctions, "you say you know the road which the person whom we seek has taken?" "I do," replied Jonathan. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too.
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