Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. "Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you?" Ben inquired. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. Sheppard, faintly.
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