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. There is the key. "Devil!" cried Jack; "that blow shall cost you your life. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. ‘Do you at least know how he came to be in a position to cheat Miss Charvill, and to pass off his wife in her place?’ ‘In her place?’ There was no mistaking the boy’s ignorance of this part of the tale. " "All right; and thank you.
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