" "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. “Mr. Jack Sheppard warns Thames Darrell. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. It would be swindling. The dog-fox cannot be far off, since the cub is found. ‘You are stubborn like a mule. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice.
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