The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. "The gen'l'man'll be here directly. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. She’s taken my sword.
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