As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. I was helpless.
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