“I believe so. The only difference between the officers of Newgate and their brethren was, that they had enormous bunches of keys at their girdles, while the latter had left their keys at home. The risk I run is nothing to yours. " Mounting the roof of the prison, they traced the fugitive's course to the further extremity of the building, where they found his blanket attached to the spike proving that he escaped in that direction. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past.
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