She was the High Priestess. She shuddered with relief as it seemed that Mike and Shari were still out and about. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. " Miserably his thoughts shuttled to and fro in search of what he knew she wanted —a love story. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life.
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