He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. But though he made Blueskin and Kettleby his chief marks, he missed both. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders.
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