He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. It fits your style. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. I'll go alone.
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