Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. " "A lie!" exclaimed Jack in a terrible tone. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence.
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