"Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. That's worth something to me; for I don't mind paying for revenge. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated.
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