To account for the equestrian prowess of Jin of the Gins, we must here remark, that near to ⸺haven, and not far from the row of houses just described, there is a broad covered way, leading down to the works by a descent so gradual, that horses, cars, and even waggons can enter by it; while daily may be seen emerging from it troops of colliers, mounted on such animals as in a late chapter we have described, accoutred too with chains which, like the traces of a just-loosed carriage-horse, trail on either side, ready to hook to cars, waggons, &c.
But to return to the scene which was just commencing. The rider, in answer to whose summons we left Jin in the act of opening the door, on the threshold of which she now stood, accosted her thus, “Well, Jin of the Gins, how is it with you?”
“Nane the bether for yeer axin,” she retorted.
“Is Sir Sydney come?” continued the querist.
“Comed!” she repeated, “Aye, and maire nor him.”
Our traveller threw his bridle to the gentle groom, whistled, advanced a foot over the threshold, and paused in the act, till he heard an answering whistle from within. He then proceeded, and entering a miserably small earthen-floored apartment, on the side of the passage, stood before Julia’s late conductor. This mysterious personage was still wrapped in his boat cloak. He sat leaning on a little rickety round table, whereon was placed a lantern which suffered but little of the light it contained to escape, having, in place of glass, sides of rusty tin, perforated with small holes like those of a colander.
“You have secured her, then?” said the traveller, as he entered.
“Where is Lord L.?” inquired the stranger, without rising or noticing the question put to him.
“Pursuing on a wrong track,” replied the traveller.
“Have you brought the title-deeds?” demanded the stranger, in a tone that few would have liked to have answered with a negative. The traveller unbuttoned his great coat and took off his hat. It was Henry!