Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. “Who?” She asked. The challenge gave her courage. It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. His last actions were futile.
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