"Take the prisoners below, Nab," said Jonathan, addressing the dwarfish Jew; "I'll join you in an instant. Jonathan Wild?" asked the attendant, in great trepidation. Her back stiffened. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him.
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