” “The truth,” she murmured, with her eyes fixed upon him. Trenchard glanced at the document. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. Indeed, it was his boast that he could find his way through any part of London blindfolded; and by this time, it would seem, he had nearly arrived at his destination; for, grasping his companion's arm, he led him along a narrow entry which did not appear to have an outlet, and came to a halt.
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