While this was passing, Jonathan opened one of the upper windows, and fired several shots upon the assailants. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. But it was not so ordered. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;— now to wrench it off with the bar: but all without effect.
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