And she left the room with Blueskin, who very politely offered her his arm.
Meanwhile, the combat between Kneebone and Mrs. Maggot had been brought to a termination. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it.
"That's for Mrs. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp.
"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly.
"That's for Winifred," vociferated the Amazon, bringing the cudgel heavily upon his shoulder.
"Damnation!" cried Kneebone.
"That's for myself," rejoined Mrs. Maggot, dealing him a blow, which stretched him senseless on the floor.
"Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive."
"He'll scarcely need a plaister," replied Mrs. Maggot, laughing. "Here, Bess, give me the cord, and I'll tie him to this chest of drawers. I don't think he'll come to himself too soon. But it's best to be on the safe side."
"Decidedly so," replied Edgeworth Bess; "and I'll take this opportunity, while Jack's back is turned,—for he's grown so strangely particular,—of easing him of his snuff-box. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the before-named article, "he has a pocket-book."