‘Now I see that you are mad indeed. The account of the discovery of Sir Rowland's murder filled Winifred with alarm; but when she learnt what had befallen Thames—how he had been stricken down by the thief-taker's bludgeon, and left for dead, she uttered a piercing scream, fainted, and would have fallen, if Jack had not caught her in his arms. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street.
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