"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. "He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile.
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