"Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society.
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