He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. " "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. It wouldn’t be you. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. ’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol.
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