nd interrupted the two captains, who
were each just in the act of swallowing a bumper of claret.
"Fly--fly--save him," she screamed; "save him, monsters, ere it is too
late! Drowned!--Frederick!--Bachelor's Wa--" Syncope took place, and the
rest of the sentence was interrupted.

Deucedly disappointed at being obliged to give up their wine, the two
heroes seized their cocked hats, and went towards the spot which the
widow in her wild exclamations of despair had sufficiently designated.

Trippet was for running to the fish-pond at the rate of ten miles an
hour.

"Take it easy, my good fellow," said Captain Blackbeard; "running is
unwholesome after dinner. And, if that squinting scoundrel of a lawyer
_does_ drown himself, I sha'n't sleep any the worse." So the two
gentlemen walked very leisurely on towards the Bachelor's Walk; and,
indeed, seeing on their way thither Major Macabaw looking out of the
window at his quarters and smoking a cigar, they went up stairs to
consult the major, as also a bottle of Schiedam he had.

"They come not!" said the widow, when restored to herself. "O Heavens!
grant that Frederick is safe! Sister Anne, go up to the leads and look
if anybody is coming." And up, accordingly, to the garrets Sister Anne
mounted. "Do you see anybody coming, Sister Anne?"

"I see Dr. Drench's little boy," said Sister Anne; "he is leaving a pill
and draught at Miss Molly Grub's."

"Dearest Sister Anne, don't you see any one coming?" shouted the widow
once again.

"I see a flock of dust--no! a cloud of sheep. Pshaw! I see the London
coach coming in. There are three outsides, and the guard has flung a
parcel to Mrs. Jenkins's maid."

"Distraction! Look once more, Sister Anne."

"I see a crowd,--a shutter,--a shutter with a man on it,--a
beadle,--forty little boys,--Gracious goodness! what _can_ it be?" and
down stairs tumbled Sister Anne, and was looking out of the
parlor-window by her sister's side, when the crowd she had perceived
from the garret passed close by them.

At the head walked the beadle, slashing about at the little boys.

Two scores of these followed and surrounded

A SHUTTER carried by four men.

On the shutter lay _Frederick_! He was ghastly pale; his hair was
draggled over his face; his clothes stuck tight to him on account of the
wet; streams of water gurgled down the shutter-sides. But he was not
dead! He turned one eye round towards the window where Mrs. Bluebeard
sat, and gave he