“There is one hope more—the window—the window.”
The casement was one of those with diamond-shaped panes, held together by thin slips of lead, and Jacob Gray saw that immediately under it was a filthy gutter.
“One hope—one hope,” he muttered; and cautiously drawing himself through the window, he closed it again, and stood in the gutter. On one side of him was the high sloping roof of the attic, and on the other was a narrow crumbling parapet.
With a shudder, he looked down into the street. An itinerant breakfast provider had taken up his station immediately below, and several early passengers were hurrying onwards to different employments.
A boy looked up, and said,—
“There he goes!”
Gray could have cut his throat with pleasure, but he could only curse him, and creep on, while the urchin pointing him out to the saloon dealer, who, shading his eyes with his hands, said in a voice that came clearly to Jacob Gray’s ears,—
“It’s some thief, I’ll be bound, but it’s no business of mine—saloop!”
CHAPTER LXXVII.
The Smith’s Plot Against Gray.—An Accommodating Friend.