A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. He was an old, skilled vampire. For two years he thought himself secure; and, secretly engaged in the Jacobite schemes of the time, in which, also, Sir Cecil was deeply involved, he began to relax in his watchfulness over Aliva. As to Jack Sheppard, he appeared utterly reckless and insensible, and did nothing but whistle and sing the whole way. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. ‘But a spy I am not. There was a strained, eager expression on his face.
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