" "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. ’ ‘You can arrest me,’ answered Kimble belligerently, ‘but you can’t make me say nothing about her. Has your ladyship any further commands?" "None whatever. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless.
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