Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. You will have lots of time on your hands. I did not know what I was saying. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. I’m a soldier, you see. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. ‘Madwoman,’ he screamed back, as he climbed over the next pew, eyes darting down briefly to check for his sword.
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