Gerald instantly took her arm and guided her back to her chair. Here we are. " CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Only a book detective could dope this out. I would have heard her. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. ‘Ah, Madame Joan. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Of his own certain knowledge he could tell them that. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture.
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