Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. She colored faintly. “You say that he is alive. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success.
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