. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. Headed by Jonathan, all the turnkeys then repaired to the upper part of the jail, and, approaching the Red Room by a circuitous route, several doors were unlocked, and they came upon the scene of Jack's exploits. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. ” “You are very good, Mr.
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