" "Where are they?" "Ay, where are they?" chorussed the mob, flourishing their various weapons, and flashing their torches in the air; "we'll starve 'em out. " "Wonderful! It's an infernal shame. Now what? There was an interest, or why ask him who they were. Many of the soldiers dismounted, and called for drink. "This," replied Jonathan, taking a paper from a portfolio, and handing it to the knight, "this written evidence, signed by Martha Cooper, the gipsy, by whom the girl was stolen, and who was afterwards executed for a similar crime. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office.
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