Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. “We will see that he never annoys you. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. Forthwith he presented his card.
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