She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. ’ A question leapt into Everett’s head and he recalled the letter to the Abbess. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step.
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