Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. "Here's one of the thieves, Sir Rowland!" cried the attendant. " "Mr. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it.
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