" "Right," answered Ireton. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. "If this is the case, where is she?" "In Bedlam," replied the thief-taker, with a Satanic grin. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. She held up the lamp. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. She opened it and imbibed.
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