This is part of a dream— some evil fancy. She looked up, and recognized Mr. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. "One of us has got to die," he panted. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. Old London Bridge.
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