Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. Moving room to room it was. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave. Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless.
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