‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. And I get myself dirty. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. ’ Melusine sank against the wall of the corridor, closing her eyes. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. 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.
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