And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. His face was white. Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. "I'll pledge you in that toast with all my heart. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution.
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