‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. We shall become a prey to the Philistines, and must turn honest in self-defence.
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