She left them and went back to Sebastian, never uttering a word about her visit. “Girl friends. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. Then the storm broke. It isn’t all. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. it’s open.
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