A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. This is a case either of suicide or murder. She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. " "I am," replied Jack, without hesitation; for he felt assured from the man's manner that he might confide in him.
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