"What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. " "I've nothing to confess," replied Thames, boldly; "I've done no wrong.
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