"Was I out of my head?" "Yes. " "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. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. ‘Of course it is,’ corroborated Hilary. ” She solemnly replied. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. I will not be sent away. Martin's Le Grand. "But clear the room of this rabble, if you have sufficient authority over them.
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