But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand.
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