I shall always be kind to him; I sha'n't bait him. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. I’m sorry Lucy. Gracious, there’s the gong. Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore —embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen.
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