"Good! that's settled; now for a bumper on it." "Well, I don't know, Clinton; I--I--declare I'm afr-afraid I'll be (hic) drunk if I drink any more." "Nonsense! down with it; let's finish the last bottle." The wine was swallowed, and Clinton, taking Arthur's hand in his, shook it heartily. "Ah! my boy, you've proved yourself 'one of us' to-night; glad to claim you as a b-hoy. Whenever you're in want or trouble, signal the b-hoys, and you'll be helped out of it. It's a better society than any of the Odd Fellows or Free Masons can ever be, and costs you nothing besides. What say you now for a stroll?" "Agreed! for my part, I am ready for anything." "Then hurrah, boys!" cried Clinton, beginning to sing a lively air; and lighting their cigars, they passed out into the saloon. "Put all this in my bill, Quibbles," said Clinton, as he passed that gentleman, on his way to the door. "That'll do, sir--all right." With noise and laughter, and rude jest, the drunken trio went down the street. It needed but a glance to show that the younger of the three, he with the bright complexion and jetty hair, was but a novice in dissipation, and more than one felt a glow of pity, as he jostled past them in the light of the bright windows of Royal-street. Alas! alas! Arthur; where was the ghost in your heart now? that haggard figure, pointing ever with its skinny finger backward! They kept on until they reached St. Ann-street, into which they turned; as they did so, their attention was attracted by the appearance of a slight female figure, with a short cloak about her shoulders, and the hood drawn over her head. The moment she heard the unsteady steps behind her she hurried her pace, which was already rapid, and sped along with feet winged with fear. "By Jove! that's a graceful little minx!" exclaimed Clinton. "She's inclined to lead us a chase, too," said Quirk. "Let's after her." "Agreed." And with a shout, the three started in pursuit, scarce conscious, in their excitement, of the object they had in view. With a scream, the light form bounded onward, and fled away like the wind. Strong limbs followed; but her feet were fleet, and lightly clad, and with the hood falling from her head, and hands clasped upon a parcel she carefully carried, she seemed almost to fly before her pursuers. With a cry of delight, she saw the gleam of a lamp come through an open door, a little beyond, when, as she attempted to spring an intervening gutter, her foot struck the curb-stone, and she fell to the earth. In an instant she was lifted in the arms of Quirk and Clinton. "Oh, grandpapa! grandpapa!" she shrieked, in thrilling accents, "what will become of your poor, poor Blanche? Help! help!" Her cries were unheeded by her merciless captors, and they bore her down an adjacent street. CHAPTER XX. "Oh! Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!" King Henry VI.