S. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. "' Instead of regarding him, Jack glanced over the iron bannisters, and measured the distance. “I am only sorry that I did not ask you to go with me. It shall be the bludgeon. ‘I know just what he was doing.
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