Capes spoke casually of their plans for work. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand.
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