" So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. I told you, Sir Rowland," he added, turning to the knight, and chuckling, "the devil never deserts me. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. 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.
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