'A sad necessity.
But the altar of our country sir--' 'You'll have a hackney-coach, I suppose ?' interrupted the constable, holding Kit (whom his other captors had released) carelessly by the arm, a little above the elbow.

'Be so good as send for one, will you ?' 'But, hear me speak a word,' cried Kit, raising his eyes and looking imploringly about him.

'Hear me speak a word.

I am no more guilty than any one of you.

Upon my soul I am not.