Here, after much hammering on the door, King managed to arouse an old crone from the chimney-corner chair, where she had been dozing in the watch; and we were had in, and entertained with a dish of hot tea.

This old lady was an aunt of Burchell Fenn's--and an unwilling partner in his dangerous trade.
Though the house stood solitary, and the hour was an unlikely one for any passenger upon the road, King and she conversed in whispers only.

There was something dismal, something of the sick-room, in this perpetual, guarded sibilation.

The apprehensions of our hostess insensibly communicated themselves to every one present.

We ate like mice in a cat's ear; if one of us jingled a teaspoon, all would start; and when the hour came to take the road again, we drew a long breath of relief, and climbed to our places in the covered cart with a positive sense of escape.