” “Oh, I’m not trying to help it,” said Ann Veronica. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. ' That's your signal. He did not stagger in the least. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. "Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully. Before midnight, I'll answer for it, it shall be done. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo.
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