The ruffian's companions took his part. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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