" "What say you, Sir?" said the Amazon, with an engaging leer at the stranger. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. She was shocked. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. I’ve got too much work.
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