Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels.
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