Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. —What do you know of Thames?— Where is he?" "Don't agitate yourself, dearest girl," rejoined the woollen-draper; "or I shall never be able to commence my relation. I could not hear his heart beat. You guys don’t fool around, that was one big Thanksgiving dinner. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober.
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