either in
a faint or shamming.'

When he had concluded this narration, during which he had made several
pauses, for the convenience of cracking and eating nuts, of which
he seemed to have a pocketful, the blind man pulled a flask from his
pocket, took a draught himself, and offered it to his companion.

'You won't, won't you?' he said, feeling that he pushed it from him.
'Well! Then the gallant gentleman who's lodging with you, will. Hallo,
bully!'

'Death!' said the other, holding him back. 'Will you tell me what I am
to do!'

'Do! Nothing easier. Make a moonlight flitting in two hours' time with
the young gentleman (he's quite ready to go; I have been giving him good
advice as we came along), and get as far from London as you can. Let me
know where you are, and leave the rest to me. She MUST come round; she
can't hold out long; and as to the chances of your being retaken in
the meanwhile, why it wasn't one man who got out of Newgate, but three
hundred. Think of that, for your comfort.'

'We must support life. How?'

'How!' repeated the blind man. 'By eating and drinking. And how get meat
and drink, but by paying for it! Money!' he cried, slapping his pocket.
'Is money the word? Why, the streets have been running money. Devil send
that the sport's not over yet, for these are jolly times; golden, rare,
roaring, scrambling times. Hallo, bully! Hallo! Hallo! Drink, bully,
drink. Where are ye there! Hallo!'

With such vociferations, and with a boisterous manner which bespoke his
perfect abandonment to the general licence and disorder, he groped his
way towards the shed, where Hugh and Barnaby were sitting on the ground.

'Put it about!' he cried, handing his flask to Hugh. 'The kennels run
with wine and gold. Guineas and strong water flow from the very pumps.
About with it, don't spare it!'

Exhausted, unwashed, unshorn, begrimed with smoke and dust, his hair
clotted with blood, his voice quite gone, so that he spoke in whispers;
his skin parched up by fever, his whole body bruised and cut, and beaten
about, Hugh still took the flask, and raised it to his lips. He was in
the act of drinking, when the front of the shed was suddenly darkened,
and Dennis stood before them.

'No offence, no offence,' said that personage in a conciliatory tone, as
Hugh stopped in his draught, and eyed him, with no pleasant look, from
head to foot. 'No offence, brother. Barnaby here too, eh? How are you,
Barnaby? And two other gentl