For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. ’ ‘Sir!’ called Trodger, as the captain began to lead the young lady off. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night.
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