The note-passer lagged behind with her. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. ‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. Between the Jew and the attendant came Jack Sheppard; while a crowd of servants, attracted by the news, that the investigation of a robbery was going forward, lingered at the doorway in hopes of catching something of the proceedings. “What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked. She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth.
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