"Nothing more than this," answered Kneebone,—"that after the failure of his projects, and the downfall of his party, he retired to his seat, Ashton Hall, near Manchester, and has remained there ever since, entirely secluded from the world. His relation of the murder of Sir Rowland petrified even his fierce auditors. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan.
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