For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. "Here's a door," remarked Ireton, when he got to that nearest the leads, "which I could have sworn would have resisted anything. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult.
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