At last he could bear it no longer. Ennison listened, and he forgot where he was. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. Before the first month was gone, McClintock admitted that the boy was a find. You were dying and your baby along with you. Engines were brought to play upon Wild's premises, and upon the adjoining houses.
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