ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. "Much that I would willingly forget. They stood back together and stared at it. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket.
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