" "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 pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother. This I know for at the Valade estate it was talked of very much, even that they supposed me there to be the daughter of Suzanne. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper.
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