ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. ’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. The tapstress was full of curiosity; but she appeared more easy than the others. “Why?” he asked, suavely. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. I have slept with it under my pillow.
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