Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search.
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