But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. Either Sydney or Mr. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. “I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. Bah. Don’t try to shield anybody or hide anything. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. “I will not ask you to explain further. Take your pick, Mrs. Rowland's purposes were, however, defeated in a manner as unexpected as appalling.
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