A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. “We can be alone?” She inquired. " "You have forgotten that you are in my power," returned the knight, sternly; "and that all your allies cannot save you from my resentment. .
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