"Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n." "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you.

Ah! what's that ?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him.

"If I hadn't just left him, I could have sworn it was Mrs.Spurling's sooty imp, Caliban." Having seen the chairmen concealed in the entry, Shotbolt proceeded to Mr.Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door.

The summons was instantly answered by a shop-boy.
"Is your master at home ?" inquired the jailer.
"He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head.

"My name is Kneebone," added the portly personage, stepping forward.