"Sir Rowland is murdered!" cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue. And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. Then she came a few steps to meet him.
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