‘Looks like it. “Indeed, no,” he answered. ” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. “It’s too bad.
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