After running to some distance down Seacoal Lane, Jack stopped to give a last look at the vehicle which was bearing away the remains of his beloved and ill-fated mother.  It was scarcely out of sight, when two persons, whom, he instantly recognised as Jonathan and Abraham Mendez, turned the corner of the street, and made it evident from their shouts, that they likewise perceived him.

Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane, skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn Bridge, and began to ascend the neighbouring hill.  By the time he had reached St. Andrew’s Church, his pursuers had gained the bridge, and the attention of such passengers as crowded the streets was attracted towards him by their vociferations.  Amongst others, the watchman whose box was placed against the churchyard wall, near the entrance to Shoe-lane, rushed out and sprung his rattle, which was immediately answered by another rattle from Holborn-bars.

Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived.  His course had been observed by the watchman, who directed Wild which way to take.

“It is Jack Sheppard, the noted housebreaker,” cried Jonathan, at the top of his sonorous voice.  “He has just broken out of Newgate.  After him!  A hundred pounds to the man who takes him.”

Sheppard’s name operated like magic on the crowd.  The cry was echoed by twenty different voices.  People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels—­all eager to assist in the capture.

“Stop thief!” roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden.  “It is Sheppard—­Jack Sheppard—­stop him!” And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels.

Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course.  By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray’s-Inn-lane.  Here he was hotly pursued.  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.

At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.  Hearing the distant shouts, these fellows rushed down to the entrance of the court, and arrived there just as Jack passed it.  “Stop thief!” roared Jonathan.  “Stop thief!” clamoured the rabble behind.

At no loss to comprehend that Jack was the individual pointed out by these outcries, two of the nearest of the group made a dash at him.  But Jack eluded their grasp.  A large dog was then set at him by a stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he speedily sent him yelping back.  The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer.  Determined, however, not be taken with life, he held on.