The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet,—nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate,—both doors were generally left open during the daytime. The ragged edge. Half a day had turned the corner of the hours; and Ah Cum admitted that this girl puzzled him.
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