The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. He'd have some fun with that Chinaman before the morning was out. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash.
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