But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore —embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. She was finally dead, going to Hell. They litter up the room.
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