She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Afterwards we started for a motor ride to a place outside Paris for déjeuner, and I suppose the man’s nerve failed him. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground.
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