They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Ramage did not know. This morning his entourage (as he jestingly called it) consisted of the girl, two spinsters (Prudence and Angelina Jedson), prim and doubtful of the world, and the young man who appeared to be considerably the worse for the alcohol he had consumed. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs.
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