To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment, was out of the question. “What do you think of that?” he asked. “I say!” he cried. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. Presently. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again. She ignored his question.
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