Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Oblige me by acting under my guidance in the matter, Sir Rowland. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's.
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