"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. They cleaned up the mess as best they could and she went home with him docilely. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. The Jew did not speak, but pointed to the audience-chamber. Ireton, was appointed to the office, stood with a hammer in one hand, and a punch in the other, near the great stone block, ready to fulfil his duty.
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