Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. His suspicions at first fell upon you. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. There was a hint of tears in her voice.
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