For an answer, a quiet stare and a slight
contraction of th«) pretty mouth of iny com
panion—indicating tier opinion that, as a
stranger and uniutroduced, I had no right to
speak to her.
The sense of defeat and disgrace fairly over
whelmed me for a while, andjmy eyes wander
ed over the paper I held in my hand, seeing
but understanding not what they saw. At
length they lighted upon a fa
miliar name, .‘‘Chippy Watson,”
and their owner recovered his senses
ami almost forgot his grief as lie road the fol
lowing lines: ‘ The Burtown Murder—Escape
of the Prisoner.” After detailing the inci
dents of tho hearing before the magistrate and
the remand of the prisoner, pending the in
quest, the paragraph wonton as follows: ‘‘On
leaving the court, Watson was conducted be
tween fuor officers to the van. Just as he was
stepping in, and when the policemen were
endeavoring to keep back the crowd
that pressed round, the prisoner suddenly
snapped his handcuffs, in some inexjilicable
manner, and knocking down the constables
who threw themselves upon him, broke
through the bystanders and fled down tho
street. The whole affair took place as it seemed
in a second. Ono minute, and Watson
rigorously guarded, was quietly walking into
tho van’ in the midst ol the officers; tho
next gaud ho was free, tearing down too
sheet witli tho police ami the populace at his
heels. Ho was seen to dodge down a back al
ley, known as Shut Lane, and followed by
tho crowd of several hundreds. At the end
of Shut Lane he disappeared round a corner,
and, strange to say, has not been seen again.
