" "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. I knew it. "Here's one of the thieves, Sir Rowland!" cried the attendant. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. He filled her glass with champagne. ” She shook her head. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. "Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall.
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