“You are right,” replied Darrell; “the weakness is past. Which is the nearest way to the river?”
“Why, it's an awkward road to direct you,” returned Jonathan. “But if you turn to the right when you reach the ground, and keep close to the Mint wall, you'll speedily arrive at White Cross Street; White Cross Street, if you turn again to the right, will bring you into Queen Street; Queen Street, bearing to the left, will conduct you to Deadman's Place; and Deadman's Place to the water-side, not fifty yards from Saint Saviour's stairs, where you're sure to get a boat.”
“The very point I aim at,” said Darrell as he passed through the outlet.
“Stay!” said Jonathan, aiding his descent; “you had better take my lantern. It may be useful to you. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. Your glove will suffice.”
“There it is;” replied the other, tossing him the glove. “Are you sure these bars touch the ground?”
“They come within a yard of it,” answered Jonathan.
“Safe!” shouted Darrell, as he effected a secure landing. “Good night!”
“So,” muttered Jonathan, “having started the hare, I'll now unleash the hounds.”
With this praiseworthy determination, he was hastening down stairs, with the utmost rapidity, when he encountered a female, whom he took, in the darkness, to be Mrs. Sheppard. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him.
“Where is he?” asked she, in an agitated whisper. “I heard his voice; but I saw them on the stairs, and durst not approach him, for fear of giving the alarm.”