Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. " "As you please, Sir," replied the tapstress, coolly. She could not stir hand or foot. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. There you are, the best client’s chair. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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