"Well, upon my word," resumed the Bloater, with a smile, "if I kep' a menagerie, I'd offer you five 'undred a year to represent a Tasmanian devil. But look 'ere, now, I've no time to waste with you; I come 'ere to give you a bit of my mind. You're a fire-raiser, you are. Ah! you may well wince an' grow w'ite. You'd grow w'iter still, with a rope round your neck, if you wos left to _my_ tender mercies, you w'ite livered villain! for I knows you; I've watched you; I've found you hout; an' I've only got to 'old up my little finger to cut your pretty little career prematoorly short. You don't seem to like that? No, I didn't expect you would. This young man, whose 'art is big, if 'is body's small, knows as much about you as I do. Two witnesses, you see; but you _ain't_ left to _our_ tender mercies; and if you wants to know who delivered you from us, and from the maginstrates, and Jack Ketch, _alias_ Calcraft, I replies, _Martha Reading_. Ha! you look surprised. Quite nat'ral. You've deserved very different treatment from that young ooman, an' didn't expect that she'd return good for evil, I s'pose. That's because you don't know 'er; you don't understand 'er, you miserable lump of selfish stoopidity. 'Ows'ever, as I said before, I ain't a-goin' to waste no more time with you. But let me, before biddin' you adoo, give you a caution. Remember, that _I've got my eye on you_. Just one word more. W'en you thinks of _me_, don't think of one as 'as got any tender mercies, for I ain't got none; not a scrap of 'em, nor nothin' of the sort. W'en you wants to know the true cause of your bein' let off, just think of two words--_Martha Reading_! She knows nothin' o' wot I'm doin', nevertheless, _she's_ done it! Let 'er name ring in your ears, an' thunder in your brain, and burn in your 'art, till it consooms your witals or your willany! Now, Jim," concluded the Bloater, rising and opening a large clasp-knife, "you go to the door, open it wide, an' stan' by to cut, and run. This gen'lm'n ain't to be trusted w'en free. Are you ready?" "Hall ready," replied Jim. The Bloater cut the cord that bound Phil Sparks, and darted from the room. Before the man could disentangle himself from its coils, the boys were safe from pursuit, quietly wending their way through the crowded thoroughfares of the great city. CHAPTER EIGHT. Several months passed away. During this period Phil Sparks kept in close hiding, because, although the Bloater, true to his promise, refrained from giving information against him, there were others who knew and suspected him, and who had no visions of an imploring Martha to restrain them in their efforts to deliver him into the hands of justice.