"Surely," observed Thames, laughing, "to one who entertains so high an opinion of Jonathan Wild, as Mr. C below. I've destroyed my only chance. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
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