I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. I'm always agreeable to the women, bless their kind hearts! Now! slip the purse into my hand. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive.
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