The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road. You do not believe me. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter.
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