"I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. That’s— that’s my private life. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. A glance satisfied Jonathan that the turnkey was not aware of the prisoner's escape; and he resolved not to destroy what he considered a good jest, by a premature disclosure of it.
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