” “A man does,” said Manning—“a true man, anyhow. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. He pushed her small hand into his jeans. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. ” She spoke with a certain asperity. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Manning,” she said, “I HAVE a confession to make.
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