" "Be handy, then," rejoined Terence, "or, I'll lose my share of the smart money. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. "Confusion!" he cried; "something has happened. I’m off to England. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. I put your clothes out an hour ago. " "That's but a short distance from here, sir.
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