Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. It’s no good. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly.
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