"Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. "Enschede!" he called. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning.
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