She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. I followed, taking up hunting so that way I could track you, to make sure you would become well again. She is setting out for Hartford, Connecticut. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. No man knew whence she had come nor why. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape.
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