‘Must be still downstairs. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. "What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. What I said about your brat was all stuff. Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door. Moments are ages now. " A deep indignant groan followed. You're a queer lad. And empty. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation.
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