"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. "Very well, Mr. "Off with you to Newgate!" cried Jack, "and don't let him out till you get inside the Lodge. I always told you some accident would happen. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. We’ve brought a carriage to take you back to London, and I’ve settled with Trodger, who has just given me a coherent account of the affair. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. She walked back to the car. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs.
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