At last he could bear it no longer. . "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. " "Peace!" cried the knight, fiercely. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. " "Well, take a chair," rejoined Kneebone. No one is safe. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue.
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