Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. It’s not far from twilight. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. At this piece of information, the two subordinate officers were observed to exchange glances; and, after a little agreeable raillery on their captain's gallantry, they begged permission to accompany him in his visit. “Not to-night,” she said. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone.
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