“How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. Well, I told aunt. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. But if Misther Wild were to find out that I thwarted his schames——" "I'd not be in your skin for a trifle," interrupted Quilt, who having secured Sheppard, and delivered him to Abraham, now approached them unawares; "and it shan't be my fault if he don't hear of it.
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