For some time Mr. Henry Lang sat with his head resting upon his
hands, and with them upon the table. Deep silence prevailed, broken
only, at lengthy intervals, by the loud laugh following the merry
jest of some passer-by, or the dismal creaking of the swing-sign of
an adjacent tavern.

How long Mr. Lang might have remained in that position is not for us
to determine. But it would have been much longer, had not a loud rap
at the outer door awakened him from his drowsy condition.

He started at the sound, and, taking in his hand a dim-burning
candle, proceeded to answer the call. Opening the door, a man
closely enveloped in a large cloak and seal-skin cap, the last of
which hung slouchingly about his head and face, inquired, in a
gruff, ill-mannered voice, whether a person unfavorably known to the
police as "Bold Bill" had been there. Harry trembled, knowing his
interrogator to be one of the city watch; yet he endeavored to
conceal his fears and embarrassment by a forced smile, and remarked:

"That is indeed a strange name, and one of which I have never before
heard. Tell me what he has been about."

"Why do you think he has been about anything, or why think you I am
acquainted with his actions?" inquired the stranger, in a stern
voice, as though the supreme majesty of the law represented by him
was not to be spoken lightly of. His scrutinizing features relaxed
not in the least, but he looked our hero steadfastly in the face.