"I was at Tyburn. The nurse sent for him as soon as she saw that you were conscious. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. " CHAPTER XVIII. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. Surely it was a dream. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. He did not like it.
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