ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. Splendidly. ’ What would you tell her?” “If she asked advice, I should say she wasn’t fit to do anything of the sort. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. . The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves.
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