"Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. ’ The couple on the sofa stared at her blankly. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. ” He was very indifferent. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane.
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