Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. “I believe that I can give you great news. " "Don't stir, or they'll chain you to the wall," said his mother detaining him. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light.
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