“Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. The sight of the thief-taker increased the fury of the mob to a fearful degree. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously.
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