"Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. ‘Ah, trying to be the young hero, I take it, which is why he near got hisself killed. Her husband was prouder of her every day. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies.
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