’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. ” He said. I cannot explain beyond that. "It is open," replied the lady, rushing towards it, and springing through the outlet. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. The solemn strokes were immediately answered by a multitude of chimes, sounding across the Thames, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable.
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