Every stone of its inner wall was covered by inscriptions which

had been carved by prisonersdates, names, complaints, and

prayers. Upon a corner stone in an angle of the wall, one prisoner,

who seemed to have gone to execution, had cut as his last work,

three letters. They were done with some very poor instrument,

and hurriedly, with an unsteady hand. At first, they were read as

D.I.C.; but, on being more carefully examined, the last letter was

found to be G. There was no record or legend of any prisoner with

those initials, and many fruitless guesses were made what the

name could have been. At length, it was suggested that the letters

were not initials, but the complete word, DIG. The floor was

examined very carefully under the inscription, and, in the earth

beneath a stone, or tile, or some fragment of paving, were found

the ashes of a paper, mingled with the ashes of a small leathern

case or bag. What the unknown prisoner had written will never be

read, but he had written something, and hidden it away to keep it

from the gaoler.”

“My father,” exclaimed Lucie, “you are ill!”

He had suddenly started up, with his hand to his head. His

manner and his look quite terrified them all.

“No, my dear, not ill. There are large drops of rain falling, and

they made me start. We had better go in.”

He recovered himself almost instant