But the men in irons were so intent upon their own troubles, and the pursuer was so keen on vengeance, that none of them noticed the vessel.

As they limped along, splashing through the pools the rain had left, the pursuer would occasionally pause to fling stones and sticks and even cakes of mud at the fugitives, who were whimpering as they tottered forward.
The man in the baby blue pajamas was cursing in a high-pitched, nasal, querulous voice.

Cleggett noticed with astonishment that a single-barreled eyeglass was screwed into one of his eyes.

Occasionally it dropped to the ground, and he would stop and fumble for it and wipe it on his wet sleeve and replace it.

Had it not been for these stops he would have overtaken the men in irons.
"Clement!" Lady Agatha laid her hand upon his arm.