The golden head shook ever so slightly; again the big hand went toward the small one, then suddenly dropped.
"Right this way m'lord--m'lady!" The face of the convict abruptly changed; fury, hatred, a blind instinct to kill were unmistakably revealed in his countenance as he heard the bland voice of the police agent. From the child's hand the gold disk fell and rolled under the wooden slab that served as a couch in the cell.
"Jocelyn!" The expostulating tones of the governor's wife preceded the approach of the party. "What are you doing, child, so near the bars?"
"Good heavens!" Mr. Gillett seized the girl's arm and abruptly drew her away. "My dear little lady!" he said. "Really you don't know the danger you run. And near that cell of all of them!"
"That cell?" observed Sir Charles. "Then that is--"
"The convict I was telling you about! The 'Pet of 'Frisco.' The 'Pride of Golden Gate.'"