Directed by the same individual, who had helped Darrell to steal a march upon him, Rowland, with Davies, and another attendant, continued the pursuit. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard.
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