" "I do not doubt it," retorted Winifred, scornfully; "because I attach credit neither to one nor the other. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. . Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. She was finally dead, going to Hell. " "Come, lad; let's have it," said McClintock.
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