They were those of the Irish watchman. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up. “You poor thing. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
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