"To be sure I will, my child. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. " He approached the bed and laid his palm on the patient's forehead, and nodded. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered.
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