’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. " "If you mean the fugitive, Darrell, he has escaped through the back window," replied Jonathan. . Previously to his descent he had left the nail and spike on the wall, and with these he fastened the blanket to the stone coping. "Friday!" echoed Mrs. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. A quarter of an hour passed.
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