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"He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. "Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered.
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