” Annabel rose slowly to her feet, walked to the door as though to see that it was shut, and came back with slow lagging footsteps. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. ” He said. "Confusion!" cried he; "there is another boat in our wake.
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