On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. "It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t. Your old rooms are there, if you choose.
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