rds
King's Cross at his utmost speed. Not that he had any object in
hastening, but a frenzy goaded him along, faster, faster, till the
sweat poured from him. From King's Cross, northwards; out to Holloway,
to Hornsey. A light rain was ceaselessly falling; at one time he took
off his hat and walked some distance bareheaded, because it was a
pleasure to feel the rain trickle over him. From Hornsey by a great
circuit he made back for Islington. Here he went into a public-house,
to quench the thirst that had grown unbearable. He had but a shilling
in his pocket, and in bringing it out he was reminded of the necessity
of getting more money. He was to have met Jack Bartley to-night, long
before this hour.

He took the direction for Smithfield, and soon reached the alley near
Bartholomew's Hospital where Bartley dwelt. As he entered the street he
saw a small crowd gathered about a public-house door; he hurried
nearer, and found that the object of interest was a man in the clutch
of two others. The latter, he perceived at a glance, were
police-officers in plain clothes; the man arrested was--Jack Bartley
himself.

Jack was beside himself with terror; he had only that moment been
brought out of the bar, and was pleading shrilly in an agony of
cowardice.

'It ain't me as made 'em! I never made one in my life! I'll tell you
who it is--I'll tell you where to find him--it's Bob Hewett as lives in
Merlin Place! You've took the wrong man. It ain't me as made 'em! I'll
tell you the whole truth, or may I never speak another word! It's Bob
Hewett made 'em all--he lives in Merlin Place, Clerkenwell. I'll tell
you--'

Thus far had Bob heard before he recovered sufficiently from the shock
to move a limb. The officers were urging their prisoner forward,
grinning and nodding to each other, whilst several voices from the
crowd shouted abusively at the poltroon whose first instinct was to
betray his associate. Bob turned his face away and walked on. He did
not dare to run, yet the noises behind him kept his heart leaping with
dread. A few paces and he was out of the alley. Even yet he durst not
run. He had turned in the unlucky direction; the crowd was still
following. For five minutes he had to keep advancing, then at last he
was able to move off at right angles. The crowd passed the end of the
street.

Only then did complete panic get possession of him. With a bound
forward like that of a stricken animal he started in blind flight. He