Give me that precious charge," he added, snatching the bundle from Wood. She tried to appear as if she had never been questioned before. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. '—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. Mr. Wood; but they never come now. But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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