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He was heartily thankful for it. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. The opiate has done its duty. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely.

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