Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. His arm fell to his side. As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal—tonight he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. "Is your father alive?" "No," returned Thames; "he was assassinated while I was an infant.
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