"I am a friend, poor creature—one who will deliver you from your dungeon, and give you liberty," said the detective, advancing into the room.
Joy beamed on the pale, shrunken features of the prisoner. For a moment she could not speak, then she murmured brokenly:
"Thank God for those words! I am starving and dying here. I have not tasted food for two days!"
Mr. Shelton in his frequent excursions had contracted a habit of carrying a flask of wine and paper of crackers in his pocket for his own occasional refreshment.
He took a silver cup from his pocket, and pouring a small portion of wine into it held it silently to the lips of the poor, famishing woman.
She drank it thirstily. He then began to dip crackers into the wine and fed her slowly and carefully.
"You feel better now?" he inquired, after she had consumed a generous portion of the food.
"Oh! so much better," said she, fervently, laying her head back on its hard pillow while the hungry, famished look died out of her eyes and a softer light beamed in them. "I thank you very much, sir. I was on the verge of expiring when you came to my relief!"
"Perhaps you feel well enough to tell me your name now," said he, smiling kindly.