It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least.
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