“I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. It was. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added.
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