"You won't want this door opened again to-night, will you, Doctor?" inquired the man, rather impatiently, of the physician, who had stepped to the door.
Dr. Hart hesitated, and seemed to debate with himself, and then answered:
"I must stay with my patient for another hour, and then, if there should be no change in her condition, I shall have to trouble you to let me out, Mr. Martin—since you have got no warrant to keep me here," he added, with a smile.
The man put up the last bar with a bang, and looked as if he wished he had the authority of which the doctor spoke.
Dr. Hart returned to the room of his patient whom he found in the same comatose state, watched by Miss Tabby, who was moaning over the young babe that lay across her lap, and by Lyon Berners, who sat beside the bed holding his wife's cold hand.
"Where is Miss Pendleton? I did not see her as I came up the passage," inquired the doctor, after he had looked at his patient.
"The warden's darter came and took her away to sleep in her room, and high time too, poor young lady, for she was about worn out," said Miss Tabby.
The doctor took a seat near the head of the bed, where he could watch the sick woman.
And all became very silent in the cell, until at length Miss Tabby spoke.
"What's that roaring? It can't be thunder this time o' year."