The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. “So you’d best open your coffers. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet.
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