"But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. This was done, and Austin returned with a crest-fallen look to the table. I could make away with him at once, as you are about to make away with your nephew, Sir Rowland,—but that wouldn't serve my turn. Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. " Mr. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards.
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