‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. Perhaps I am still mad. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. My feelings overpower me. He's now engaged on the hall at Greenwich Hospital.
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