Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. The wings stopped. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table.
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