Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. "Why can't I?" "You will be compromised. “Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. Drink the toast, Jack. Expiation.
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