The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. They had refused. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. “You are talking like a boy. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. The unfortunate prisoner, meanwhile, who was not informed of the respite, languished in his horrible dungeon, and, at the expiration of three weeks, became so seriously indisposed that it was feared he could not long survive. They would arrive sometime in June.
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