‘Not here. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. " "Six weeks!" exclaimed Thames, in a melancholy tone. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. If so I shall have to leave. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour.
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