They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. The spirit of disaffection was busy throughout the kingdom.
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