" At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. ‘Is it such a terrible prospect? I will take care of you—as long as you obey me. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. ’ Her features broke apart in a laugh. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. " "It's all right, pals," cried Baptist, in a loud tone; "the gentlemen and I have settled matters. Just as he was preparing to follow, the wherry containing Rowland and his men, which had drifted in their wake, was dashed against his boat. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII.
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