"Then I presume you've not been arrested?" "I have not," answered Wood firmly. He drew a little sigh of relief. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. A bad man, in fact.
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