He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. “Rubbish!” he answered. ‘You’re only making things worse, you little idiot. Yes. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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