" "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. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope. ToC The tragical affair at Dollis Hill, it need scarcely be said, was a dreadful blow to the family.
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