"Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. "Give me your thorough-paced villain. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. ‘You talk together of me as if I am not there.
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