"Where is he?" he cried. Stanley’s pace slackened. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation.
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