Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. 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. But just as they were about to place him on the ground, he burst from their hold, and made a desperate spring at Jonathan, who was standing with his arms folded near the door watching the scene. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs.
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