"Well, since you force me to betray my master's secrets," replied Quilt, sullenly, "I've ridden express to Manchester to deliver a message to Sir Rowland. For all you might know, I might have someone watching you. Before proceeding to Wych Street, he called at the Lodge to see how matters were going on, and found Mrs. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. But I have remembered the horse and have asked this sergeant that a soldier fetch him. " And, with this generous resolve, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Arrest! arrest! help! help!" seconding the words with a shrill and peculiar cry, well known at the time to the inhabitants of the quarter in which it was uttered. He did not speak for a moment. What was the fellow doing in this part of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington? The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign. " And before she could be prevented, she lifted up the cloth, and disclosed Shotbolt. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. —Strype's Stow. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents.
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