"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. You will wonder why he did not hold the pearls until Father returned. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. " "Conduct me to your dwelling, Sir, without further delay," said Trenchard, sternly,—"to the boy. Hurry to me, I entreat you.
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