If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. . “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. “I have not left this apartment myself. I know less about this affair perhaps than you suppose.
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