There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go in pursuit; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn,—which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells,—where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed. But after that it was easy. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. There is a new life, different from the old life of dependence, possible. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. He has taken more than one step towards the gallows already. . " "Not quite, I hope," rejoined Sheppard. 5.
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