Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. "You don't eat," continued Kneebone, addressing Jack, who had remained for some time thoughtful, and pre-occupied with his head upon his hand. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington.
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