Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. Many other wards,—especially on the Master Debtor's side,—have been necessarily omitted in the foregoing hasty enumeration.
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