"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. We never supposed you helped yourself to a picture set with diamonds—not we!" "Is the guv'ner consarned in this job?" asked Terence, in a whisper. ” She commented. There he sat as before, with the heavy fetters on his limbs, and beside him sat his three companions, who had since expiated their offences on the gibbet. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. After that time nothing shall save you. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night.
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