They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. She acted as her mother had taught her to. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. At length, I shall ascertain my name. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own.
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