"Here's one of the thieves, Sir Rowland!" cried the attendant. CHAPTER I. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. ’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom. To be sure," he added, lowering his tone, "they wos little 'uns, and one on 'em was smothered—ough! ough!—how this cough chokes me!" Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying, apart from the pole, upon a bench near him.
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