‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. “No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood.
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