’ ‘I don’t even know your granddaughter, ma’am. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. \"Thank you. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. This accident rather confirms than checks my purpose. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid.
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