“That, sir,” cried Oliver, pointing out of the carriage window. “That house!”

“Yes; well, what of it? Stop, coachman. Pull up here,” cried the doctor. “What of the house, my man; eh?”

“The thieves⁠—the house they took me to!” whispered Oliver.

“The devil it is!” cried the doctor. “Hallo, there! let me out!”

But, before the coachman could dismount from his box, he had tumbled out of the coach, by some means or other; and, running down to the deserted tenement, began kicking at the door like a madman.

“Halloa!” said a little ugly humpbacked man: opening the door so suddenly, that the doctor, from the very impetus of his last kick, nearly fell forward into the passage. “What’s the matter here?”