Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. "She is here," cried Jack, darting forward. Jack had brought away the bunch of keys which he had taken from Quilt Arnold, but, none of them would open it. "Then, the story of his death was false. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own.
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