7. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. " "Blueskin, clear the room," cried the Master; "these gentlemen would be private. I want him as my friend. “Call it warning, if you like. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs.
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