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Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Her head ached with a hollow pain. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry.

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