Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. "Two hundred pounds, if he's lodged in Newgate before to-morrow morning," continued Wild. 9. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. There were shadows under his eyes. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. " "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. “None, I thank you,” he answered.
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