"If this document is correct," continued Wood, "and I am persuaded it is so,— you are as unfortunate as wicked. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams.
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