  The houseless prince, the homeless heir to
the throne of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into the maze
of squalid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and misery were
massed together.

Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and said--

“Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a farthing home,
I warrant me!  If it be so, an’ I do not break all the bones in thy lean
body, then am I not John Canty, but some other.