But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. ‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. No police officers or lurking storms were anywhere in sight. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. ‘Now see here, missie. No, this was imbecile. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence.
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