Escape was now impossible. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. Kneebone, who had drained his glass to the restoration of the house of Stuart, and the downfall of the house of Hanover, more frequently than was consistent with prudence, consented; and the trio set out for Wych Street, where they arrived in the jolliest humour possible. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Among the commercial enticements McClintock found a real letter.
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