"I am here, you see," said the smith. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. She must kill this man, or kill herself. "A great deal!" replied Thames.
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