"It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. " "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. Light flooded the place. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John.
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