Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. You were very good. You’re not to go. ’ She was backing across the room, moving towards the screen. \" She replied. . Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. "Because I knew what you wanted me for!" answered Thames firmly. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am.
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