’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. " "Plumb in the eye!" said O'Higgins, rising. That's the job. I somehow understood. " "There's but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly. Sheppard, distractedly. “What are you doing?” he asked.
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