How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. ‘You talk together of me as if I am not there. “You are certain of this. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. She cried out with the pain of it. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—"You are known by the villagers,—be upon your guard,"—he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course.
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