She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. It was easy to discover that he was a knave, but equally easy to perceive that he was a pleasant fellow; a combination of qualities by no means of rare occurrence. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. " "Six weeks have elapsed since that fatal night," replied Jack. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs.
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