And so Winifred understood him. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. "I can't see him. Throwing the blanket over his left arm and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up the chimney; regained the Red Room; hurried along the first passage; crossed the Chapel; threaded the entry to the Lower Leads; and, in less than ten minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern extremity of the prison. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses.
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