Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. “He sees through it all. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. '" "What is that?" she asked. Enfeebled by his wound, Wild had lost much of his strength, though nothing of his ferocity and energy,—and fiercely assailing Blueskin, he made a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to apprehend him. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived.
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