Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. Now, Sir. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. I took him out of the hands of death. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch.
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