Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. While he was filling his pockets with golden coin from this store, Blueskin had pulled the plate-chest from under the bed, and having forced it open, began filling a canvass bag with its contents,—silver coffee-pots, chocolate-dishes, waiters trays, tankards, goblets, and candlesticks. Please to release me. The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate.
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