“Does it hurt?” Michelle asked. . ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody. The lady, who was indeed stunning, Gerald suddenly realised, said never a word. “Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. “There are policemen—and buses. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. ” He was obviously puzzled.
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