‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. Montressor’s guests. "Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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