He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. " "Have you seen him?" asked Trenchard. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. And he could not return this love. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. “You too sing?” he asked. .
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