Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. And there's your liver. Sheppard, passionately,—"he has my boundless gratitude, and devotion.
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