"It's all true, s'elp me," said Sal, eagerly; "'e was 'ere all the time."
Calton stepped towards the door, followed by the detective, when Mother Guttersnipe arose.
"Where's the money for finin' 'er?" she screeched, pointing one skinny finger at Sal.
"Well, considering the girl found herself," said Calton, dryly, "the money is in the bank, and will remain there."
"An' I'm to be done out of my 'ard earned tin, s'elp me?" howled the old fury. "Cuss ye, I'll 'ave the lawr of ye, and get you put in quod."
"You'll go there yourself, if you don't take care," said Kilsip, in his soft, purring tones.
"Yah!" shrieked Mother Guttersnipe, snapping her fingers at him." What do I care about your d——d quod? Ain't I bin in Pentrig', an' it ain't 'urt me, it ain't? I'm as lively as a gal, blarst ye and cuss ye."
And the old fury, to prove the truth of her words danced a sort of war dance in front of Mr. Calton, snapping her lingers and yelling out curses, as an accompaniment to her ballet. Her luxurious white hair got loose, and streamed out during her gyrations, and what with her grotesque looks and the faint light of the candle, she looked a gruesome spectacle. Calton, remembering the tales he had heard of the women of Paris, at the revolution, and the way they danced "La Carmagnole," thought that Mother Guttersnipe would have been in her element in that sea of blood and turbulence. He, however, merely shrugged his shoulders, and walked out of the room, as with a final curse, delivered in a hoarse voice, Mother Guttersnipe sank exhausted on the floor, and yelled for gin.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE VERDICT OF THE JURY.
It is needless to say that the court next morning was crowded, and numbers were unable to gain admission. The news that Sal Rawlins, who alone could prove the innocence of the prisoner, had been found, and would appear in court that morning, had spread like wildfire, and the acquittal of the prisoner was confidently expected by a large
