Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. "I must tell you," she was saying. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. ” “I don’t care.
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