She wanted to know. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. \"Good morning, Lucy\". No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. "I should like to meet the man who would dare to gainsay it.
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