"Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it. And, whatever you may think, I assure you, Jack's a downright goodnatured fellow. The crash was tremendous. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve.
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