Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. He could not make good his hold. I shouldn't talk like that. "It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack.
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