6. By a sort of instinct. The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. Wood heard the cry. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. . He perceived clearly enough, that the chase was moving quickly; and he was also aware, from the increased rapidity with which the oars were urged, that every exertion was made on board to get out of the reach of her pursuers. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly.
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