We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. A slight cough uttered by Jonathan at the moment awakened the echoes of the place, and was returned in hollow reverberations. "So, the Mohocks have been at work, I perceive," remarked Quilt, as he drew near the group. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed.
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