Casting one look of anguish at his leader, Blueskin then darted down the passage.
The only persons in the Lodge were Mrs. Spurling and Marvel. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit.
On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Efforts were made to staunch his wounds and surgical assistance sent for.
"Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly.
"Blueskin," said Ireton.
"No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild.
"No, no, Sir," replied Ireton. "He's here."
"That's right," replied Wild, with a ghastly smile. "Remove him to the Middle Stone Hold,—watch over him night and day, do you mind?"
"I do, Sir."
"Irons—heavy irons—night and day."