She could feel her face turning beet red. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. Here he set down the lamp, and took out a key, and as he did so the expression of his countenance was so atrocious, that Jack felt assured he was not wrong in his suspicions. \"Oh. You are my slave—and such you shall continue.
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