No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. "Breathe at this phial," said Winifred. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. “When they tap the roof,” she said, in a voice of authority, “you are to come out. ” Sir John smiled and congratulated himself upon his insight. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard.
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