"For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. ' He muttered it continually. Of the women felons' rooms nothing has yet been said. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. However, confession of a fault makes half amends for it. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Promise me that you’ll contact the police if she ever calls you on the phone, or worse, shows up at your school.
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