An ugly flush stained his cheeks. Wait a second. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. CHAPTER III. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. Keep his arms down. It'll be turning over to-morrow. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself.
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