CHAPTER XVI. ’ He frowned again. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. But, you see, I’m smirched. He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressed as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the custody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew. Saren and Kevin lavished compliments upon her performance that made her blush as Martin looked at her adoringly, nodding in agreement. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. Never was there another girl like this one. How provoking!" she added, pretending to rummage her pockets; "one never can find a thing when one wants it. Now I do. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered.
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