“You must not think of me as one. See? You marry me. "Slip on the handcuffs," cried the thief-taker. Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. “You must send for the police at once, you know. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn.
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