" "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. The Well Hole 336 XIII. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. ‘That is, if she’s gone that way. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. "He has escaped!" exclaimed the knight; "we have searched every corner of the house without finding a trace of him.
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