Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Did he not look for her in the morning when she entered—come very quickly to her? She thought of him as she had last seen him looking down the length of the laboratory to see her go. Instead of which, more than half an hour has elapsed. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. She had never let off a pistol in her life. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. She felt herself getting into a corner. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. Still, one has to be reasonable. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword.
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