"Something fresh on hand, I suppose?" "I'm come to inquire after Jack Sheppard," returned Jonathan. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. His sister appeared. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. "It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor.
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