"Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. "I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. She shut the door behind her. White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room.
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