“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. "And so, you really suspected me?" murmured Mrs. . I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. “Difficulties indeed.
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