The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Better take these sandwiches. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation.
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