The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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