Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. His assistance came too late. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. ‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. ‘For instance, why have you reverted to your nun’s habit for this particular adventure?’ ‘That is easy. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “She told you that?” “Yes. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. That’s how it takes me.
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