"'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. ” “But you thought you could forget him. Please to release me. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. No police officers or lurking storms were anywhere in sight.
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