" "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. Niente. “Indeed, no,” he answered. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom.
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