Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. He was silent. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated.
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