‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed.
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