Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. In vain Wood protested his innocence. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him. ” Carolyn shushed him modestly.
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