CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. "Good night!" "So," muttered Jonathan, "having started the hare, I'll now unleash the hounds. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. On examining the door, he found it secured by a large rusty lock, which he endeavoured to pick with the nail he had just acquired; but all his efforts proving ineffectual, he removed the plate that covered it with the bar, and with his fingers contrived to draw back the bolt. He would have to probe further. Then to the Dean's Head, in St.
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