" "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. ’ ‘What about the lad?’ said the captain suddenly. It was hot and dry. ’ ‘But it is a very good English name,’ she protested. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn.
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