" "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. "I don't know. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. “It’s all right,” he said, reassuringly to the inquirer without. . " "What?" he barked. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.
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