He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible.
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