The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard.
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