Canty drew back.

"Now mark ye," continued Hendon, "I took this lad under my protection when a mob of such as thou would have mishandled him, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert him now to a worser fate ?--for whether thou art his father or no--and sooth to say, I think it is a lie--a decent swift death were better for such a lad than life in such brute hands as thine.

So go thy ways, and set quick about it, for I like not much bandying of words, being not over-patient in my nature." John Canty moved off, muttering threats and curses, and was swallowed from sight in the crowd.

Hendon ascended three flights of stairs to his room, with his charge, after ordering a meal to be sent thither.

It was a poor apartment, with a shabby bed and some odds and ends of old furniture in it, and was vaguely lighted by a couple of sickly candles.
The little King dragged himself to the bed and lay down upon it, almost exhausted with hunger and fatigue.