“I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. ’ She spread her hands. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. "I opened the padlock with this crooked nail, which I found in the floor. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner.
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