" "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. What was their surprise to find it vacant, and the prisoner gone! Jonathan, could scarcely believe his eyes. “I may be leaving where I am in a few days, so very likely you will be no better off.
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