dy, robbed her
money-box, and got away before she came to."

"Yes," Phil went on, "I remembered it, too. And I waited for a glimpse
of the robber's face. He stepped out, and the constable, with a
comrade from inside the chaise, led him to where they hold prisoners
for examination. He was all mud-stained, dishevelled, and frowsy: for
two seconds, though he didn't notice me, I had a good view of him. And
who do you think this Howard really was?"

"Bless me, how should I know? My acquaintance among the criminal
classes isn't what it might be."

"'Twas Ned Faringfield!" said Philip. "I should have known him
anywhere--heavens, how little a man's looks change, through all
vicissitudes!"

"Well, upon my soul!" I exclaimed, in a chill. "Who'd have thought it?
Yet hanging is what we always predicted for him, in jest. That it
should come so soon--for they'll make short work of that case, 'tis
certain."

"Yes, I fear they'll not lose much time over it, at the Old Bailey. We
may expect to read his name among the Newgate hangings in a month or
two. Poor devil!--I'll send him some money through my lawyer, and have
Nobbs see that he gets decent counsel. Money will enable him to live
his last weeks at Newgate in comfort, at least; though 'tis beyond
counsel to save his neck. His people must never know. Nor Fanny."

"Unless he gives his real name at the trial, or in his 'last dying
speech and confession.'"

"Why, even then it may not come to their ears. Best bring Fanny and
your mother soon to France. Madge will never tell, if she learns; I'll
warrant her for that. To think of it!--the dear old house in Queen
Street, and the boys and girls we used to play with--Tom's fate--and
now Ned's--Fanny in England--and Madge--! Was ever such diversity of
destinies in so small a family?"

He fell into his thoughts: of what strange parts we play in the world,
how different from those anybody would predict for us in our
childhood--how different, from those we then predict for ourselves.
And so we were borne across the Thames, looking back to get our last
view of St. Paul's dome for some time to come; through Southwark, and
finally into the country. The postilions kept the horses at a good
gait Southward. We did not urge them to this, for indeed we saw but
little necessity for great haste, as there was likely to be some time
ere Falconer's death became known to the authorities, and some time
longer ere it was traced to us. But as Mr. Idsle