Good riddance. But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. Thank him, not me, man. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. A maidservant held the front door open. Mrs. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan.
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