Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror.
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