Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it.
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