At last—I told a story. "Drink this, then," roared Blueskin. " "Swear it!" "I do. “Soon enough, John. ” He mumbled, driving on. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. Indeed, he told me nothing at all. Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived that the trap-door,—which has been mentioned as communicating with a secret staircase,—was open.
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