The prisoner breathed with difficulty. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. ” “You came to tell me this?” “I came for you,” he declared fiercely. ‘I am sure you will. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. Surely he was imagining this picture. ‘The sisters here will not save you. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you.
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