Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. Kneebone, Van Galgebrok, and Baptist Kettleby—all of whom greeted him cordially.
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