‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. We've made a pretty penny by him—sixty guineas this blessed day. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. "I never wear false whiskers," went on O'Higgins.
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