‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. 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. This is your room. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. So I had to buy out his interest, and it pinched me dreadfully to do it. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. Ennison paused by the little gate. . He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy.
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