Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. “It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street.
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