You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. I was one of the few. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. ’ A wary look came over her face, and Roding intervened. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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