Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "But I soon shall be," returned Jack; "take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, "and wear 'em yourself. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. But I will disappoint you. ” “Do you think so? I find my interest in that sort of thing decline and decline. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding.
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