“Now, father, comes the strange part, which I didn’t think much of at the time, but a great deal of now!”
“Go on, my boy.”
“When I came in sight of our printing office it was all closed up, the heavy shutters up and the iron bars across them; but I saw a glimmer of light through the chinks, and my first thought was fire, and I ran around to the back and climbed over the wall and looked through a hole that I knew was in the shutter of the back window, and there I saw——”
“Yes! yes!” exclaimed the editor, impatiently, as the boy had only stopped to clear his throat.
“There I saw Norton as busy setting type as if the making up of the paper was behindhand and he was working against time.”
“Ah!” breathed Abel Force.
“The gas jet was burning right in front of him, shining on his face and on his work so I could see him quite plainly. I thought maybe he had some job to do, and so it was all right; but just then a man came out of the shadows of the room somewhere and leaned over him.”
“Who was it? Col. Anglesea?” hastily demanded Abel Force.
Obed stared, and then replied, somewhat indignantly:
“Col. Anglesea? Not likely, sir.”