She had heard the trader utter it many times. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt. Wild had a narrow escape lately, in that affair of Captain Darrell," observed Shotbolt. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.
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