Sentence The Twentyeighth
Jinty was first to regain self-control: “ha-ha,” she laughed as the two yellow eyes which stared at them from the murky darkness beyond the small doorway began to approach and resolve themselves into those of an aged black and white feline, “it's only Bob,” she said and Roxy remembered the tales oft-told of the exploits and fearless legerity of Old Bob (or in the sawdust-floored taverns of the Old Town, Ould Boab) that famed mouser and ratter who prowled his secret heimlisch 'neath the feet of honest 'burghers and Baillies – she grappled with the shameful memory of her shriek and hoped that none of her ken had sighted or heard her momentary lapse into despair and fear, and once again she blushed to her roots, wondering what Jinty thought of her, then remembered that Jinty, too, had fallen prey to momentary terror; but Jinty was speaking again - “Bob, mayn't be able to communicate with us, but if anyone knows where that young acolyte of Angus Og from the Bog went, on the morning of Auntie Daphne's incarceration, it's surely he - do you think we could enlist him in our Hue and Cry?” and Roxy felt herself to be intensely proud of her pretty cousin's quickness of mind; she wondered aloud if the City beneath the Town should be considered Bob's Hinterland - she confessed, she said, that while she – and Jinty – were tremendously au fait with the streets above, it was surely the denizens of the dark and the night who were best placed to find their way through these subterranean passageways, but before Jinty could reply a long shadow fell across their path and a voice echoed around the close; they turned and saw, bearing down on them, a figure they recognised from the CCTV images – none other than Angus Og of the Bog!
Jinty was first to regain self-control: “ha-ha,” she laughed as the two yellow eyes which stared at them from the murky darkness beyond the small doorway began to approach and resolve themselves into those of an aged black and white feline, “it's only Bob,” she said and Roxy remembered the tales oft-told of the exploits and fearless legerity of Old Bob (or in the sawdust-floored taverns of the Old Town, Ould Boab) that famed mouser and ratter who prowled his secret heimlisch 'neath the feet of honest 'burghers and Baillies – she grappled with the shameful memory of her shriek and hoped that none of her ken had sighted or heard her momentary lapse into despair and fear, and once again she blushed to her roots, wondering what Jinty thought of her, then remembered that Jinty, too, had fallen prey to momentary terror; but Jinty was speaking again - “Bob, mayn't be able to communicate with us, but if anyone knows where that young acolyte of Angus Og from the Bog went, on the morning of Auntie Daphne's incarceration, it's surely he - do you think we could enlist him in our Hue and Cry?” and Roxy felt herself to be intensely proud of her pretty cousin's quickness of mind; she wondered aloud if the City beneath the Town should be considered Bob's Hinterland - she confessed, she said, that while she – and Jinty – were tremendously au fait with the streets above, it was surely the denizens of the dark and the night who were best placed to find their way through these subterranean passageways, but before Jinty could reply a long shadow fell across their path and a voice echoed around the close; they turned and saw, bearing down on them, a figure they recognised from the CCTV images – none other than Angus Og of the Bog!
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