" O'Higgins emptied an inside pocket—and purposely let the battered photograph fall to the ground. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. "There's the exact expression I want. Charcoal. . The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men.
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